Daughter of Balinor
by mimie-puddleduck
Summary: A young girl arrives at the druid camp, and Mordred takes her in. She becomes involved in a plot to overthrow King Arthur, and the mysterious Emrys who protects him. Will she ever find out who she is? And what will Mordred do? Sibling angst in later chapters.
1. Golden eyes

**So yeah, this fic has been bugging me for a while, and I have the plot figured out with plenty of cliff hangers.**

**Gets more interesting around chapter 3 ish, but first two chapters are crucial. :P**

**Enjoy the ride!**

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It was at the druid camp when he first saw her. The fifteenth camp he had laid down his head in a few years. Could he now consider himself to be one of them? Probably; at least to an outsider he was. With his tattered clothes, bare feet, and he himself knew about the atmosphere around him. Spicy and sweet with his more than powerful magic. He acknowledged his capability smugly to himself. His magic vibrated under his skin, forever pulsing and yearning to be used. Simple tricks did nothing to release it, and he needed something powerful. He wanted something challenging, something that required something more than a simple glance, or swiftly spoken incantation. He wanted to use his magic, not just skim over the surface. He was restless.

He was guarding the camp, under his own jurisdiction. The druids had complete faith in their hiding place, but he knew better. If he had managed to find them, then Emrys surely would be able. And the druids would welcome him gladly.  
_  
Ugh, Emrys._

He closed his eyes and leaned back against the tree, resting his arms on his crossed legs. He could sense every soul within 5 leagues. Every tree, every dip and curve to the land. He could feel the tents flapping in the breeze back at the camp, hear the hushed whispers of the older men, the giggling of children. Wasn't this peace just completely despicable. He drummed his fingers absentmindedly on his knees, the sound muffled through his soft grey cloak. Grey this time, not blue. Far more inconspicuous. Besides, he was no longer a child, and more capable. If he were wounded as he was five years ago, he would be able to heal himself with little more than a glance. Oh, the possibilities. And the potential.

Something new disturbed his rambling, and he sat upright sharply. There was someone moving towards them. No, two people. No... He opened his eyes and frowned. One person with a simple open mind, and another. Another... man? Woman? This one wasn't letting anything go. They clearly possessed powerful magic.

"Interesting," He murmured, a one sided grin curling on his face. Were things about to get lively at last? He stood, striding carelessly towards the people. "Who dares seek us out?" He thought to the woman, anger and power dripping from his words. He laughed softly as the woman shrieked and whirled around. He was closer, he could see her clearly now. Her blonde hair, her red dress and she whirled around, clutching a bundle to her chest. No... A baby. He stopped in his tracks, shocked. A baby had thwarted him? A mere child had prevented him, Mordred, from looking into her mind? Impossible. Yet he knew it to be true. "Who are you?" He tried again, quickening his pace. He tried diving into her mind, but it was a scrambled mix or fear, exhaustion and pleading. He reached her at last, and her brown eyes widened as she saw him. He smiled slightly, realising that she could do him no harm at all, and had clearly come to the druids with a request. "Who are you?" He asked gently. The woman drew in short, shaky breaths, and swallowed loudly. "I am Kensa, daughter of Kaine, a farmer in the southern regions."

"Well then, Kensa, daughter of Kaine. Why do you seek out the druids?"

Kensa glanced at the baby in her arms – no, not a baby. About two, possibly three, with a head of golden hair, and fast asleep. "It's her," She muttered with distaste.

"Her? Your child?"

"She is no child of mine!" Kensa hissed, and Mordred raised his eyebrows.

"Are you saying that you are not her mother? I can see the resemblance from here." And tell when you are lying to me.

Kensa scowled. "I want nothing to do with her. She isn't normal. She has brought me much shame – because of her, people look at me with disgust."

Mordred kept his face impassive, though anger was starting to boil with his magic. "And how is she not 'normal'?"

"See for yourself." She shook the child. "Wake up!" She snapped, setting her on the ground, and Mordred clenched his fists, wiling himself to remain calm. The child yawned and scrunched up her face, rubbing sleep from her eyes with balled up fists. She blinked firmly and looked up at Mordred with dazzling, golden eyes. Golden. Was she using magic? The child wandered away, tracing the tree bark with her fingers.

"What do you want us to do about her?"

"I want you to take her in."

"What kind of a mother would reject her child so willingly?" Mordred was disgusted. "Who is father?"

Kensa gave a hollow laugh. "Her father. Now there is a mistake, if I ever saw one. He was good for nothing, and I was glad when he left me. I only wish he had stayed for nine months longer, so he could take her away with him."

"Who is he?" Mordred repeated, furious.

"Balinor, the last dragon lord. Or so he called himself, anyway. The arrogant, self obsessed prat. He had magic, it isn't a surprise that he was a good-for-nothing - "

Mordred had heard enough. "Get away," He snarled. "Leave your daughter with us and be thankful that you have escaped with your life." He swished his hand at her, and the wind around her picked up, forcing her away. He stabbed at her with his other hand, each jerk slicing into her skin. "Your daughter deserves far more than you, you..." Words failed him and he shrieked, running after her as she limped away, sobbing, her arms folded across her chest. "If we cross paths again, I will kill you." He pulled her up by the front of her dress using magic, and shook her violently. She scampered away, and Mordred turned around to face the girl, who looked at the figure of her retreating mother with big, golden eyes. He knew what it was like to be shunned because of possessing magic, and he hated Kensa for that. She flinched as Mordred walked to her, and he halted. He shouldn't have done that in front of her, but he hoped that she had been too far away to see the blood against her mother's red dress. He knelt down on the ground.

"Hello, little one," He thought to her gently, smiling.

"Mama has gone," She observed, and Mordred felt a pang at her lack of grief. She should be upset, she should be disoriented and confused, crying for her parents. She didn't seem to feel any love for her mother, and Mordred wondered how badly she had been treated. Like she was just an object? Or a burden? She had been unloved, so surely she didn't know how to love in return.

The gravity of what he had just done hit him. He had taken in a child, wounded her mother, and he didn't even know her. What was he going to do with her? Still, there was something about her, something in her golden eyes, and the calm magic that was wrapped round her.

"What's your name?"She asked him. Well, we have to start somewhere.

"I'm Mordred. And you?"

She shook her head. "Mama didn't give me one. She said I wasn't worth it."

Oh, did she now. "Everybody is worth a name. And having magic isn't something to be ashamed about. In fact, you are worth much more than she is."

She grinned sheepishly, and Mordred moved closer to her. "I'm going to take you back with me now."

"Mama said you would. She said that I would have a new family, who were just like me. She said that it would be an adventure. You have magic, Mordred!" She giggled, and Mordred stood up, leading her gently back to camp, his hand resting on the back of her head. She gripped three of his fingers, and they walked back holding hands. It was a good job that she had taken to Mordred so quickly. Perhaps her magic was telling her that Mordred wasn't a threat, and that he would look after her. What an extraordinary child. She had no emotional attachments and no fear as she walked into the unknown.

"I will look after you," He thought to her. "I will keep you safe; I will make you happy, while you grow up." I will be all that your parents should have been, he added silently. He would make up for the way she had been mistreated. She squeezed his fingers, and a small smile crept on to her face, as she walked, taking in the forest with her astounding eyes of molten gold.

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**It gets better, I PROMISE. ^^**

**Please review? :)**


	2. Raven hair

**I gave you another chapter so quickly - aren't you pleased? :D**

This chapter is kind of slow, but I felt that the story needs it. Sorry.  


**Enjoy! ^^**

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After much deliberation, he had chosen to call her Anya, meaning brightness, after her eyes. Even the leaders of the camp hadn't completely decided why her eyes remained like that, and Mordred suspected that it was defensive. She grew up without protection, so she clung to her magic. It was pitiful, really. Heartbreakingly so. The way that, at first, she didn't trust anyone else in the camp, didn't know how to interact with the other children. She preferred the company of Mordred instead, who hadn't a clue why. She would sit with him for hours on end as he kept watch, sometimes talking incessantly, and sometimes remaining silent, straining her ears, picking up every crackling twig, every note of birdsong. Mordred was surprised to find that he enjoyed the company of someone more than ten years younger than him.

As she grew older, it became clear that she was more capable than her peers at nearly everything she did. She could converse fluently and fluidly with Mordred, who avoided his more usual dark topics and replaced them with pleasant chatter, telling her wild, exaggerated tales of his life, and she listened eagerly, drinking it in. He shamelessly made himself out to be a hero, and she might not have believed half of it, but played along anyway.

A young couple, Cillian and Fallon, took her in, as they were closest to Mordred and had partially adopted him, if he didn't consider himself capable, and of an age where he had 'outgrown' parents. They kept both of them fed, and Mordred managed to shirk from Fallon's fussing as she was now preoccupied with looking after Anya. When Mordred came back from the markets, or from some equally mundane journey, Fallon chided him for not taking off his wet jacket, and Anya copied her, giggling as Mordred swept her up on his shoulders and they went for a walk. As time went on, he found himself missing her more whenever he went away. He mocked himself for it. After all that he had been through he should know better than to get attached to people, or emotionally involved in their lives. People fall out of life far more easily than they enter it.

After Anya had been in the camp for a couple of months, the druid leaders deemed her fit to be taught magic, seeing that she had the potential to use it for good. They allowed Mordred to teach her, occasionally supervising their lessons. They didn't trust Mordred completely, thinking his personality to sadistic, but they needn't have worried. He taught her simple tricks to begin with, such as levitation, and how to talk to people in their minds. He was pleased to discover that she was fairly adept at it. Nothing like he was, of course, but then that was to be expected. He was exceptional.

It was in the second year of her stay with the druids that King Uther died. There was guilty pleasure through-out the camp at that news. While everyone felt that it wasn't good to celebrate and rejoice over a death, the coronation of King Arthur brought them hope. Perhaps not immediately, but on the horizon.

However, Mordred disagreed with that hopefulness. He knew that King Arthur would never change his opinion on magic, and it was not long before he found himself wrapped up in a plot to kill this new king. Over his seventeen years, he had developed quite a reputation, and was more than once sought out, his strong magic preceding him. Most were just thugs, looking for another weapon to control. Others, however, he agreed with, and this was one of those occasions. A woman, dressed in black who went by the name of Morgana found him. He remembered how she had saved his life, and she presumably remembered him.

"My, you've grown," She said, stepping out from the dark of the forest.

"And you've aged, but I don't make a song or dance about it." He hated people referring to his youth – it made him feel weak and as if they had the upper hand of watching him grow significantly. Morgana scowled, but didn't dare rebuke him. She was no fool, and she knew his power. "What do you want, Morgana?" He asked finally, after they had seized each other up.

"I want Arthur dead, and I want the throne," She had snarled at him, tilting her head back, and stepping close to him, so that they were very nearly touching. So, straight to business then.

Mordred held his ground and leaned forward, startling her. "Why don't you kill him then?" He laughed, and Morgana visibly recoiled.

"Emrys," She spat, and Mordred spluttered in surprise.

"Yes, he does make a habit of getting in the way, doesn't he?"

"You know Emrys?"

Mordred shot her a strange look, "Of course."

Morgana nodded. "I want you to deal with him."

"If that is the only way to kill Arthur."

Morgana seems surprised at his willingness, and nodded again. "It won't be just us. I will gather several more powerful sorcerers, to make sure that this time we don't fail. I shall return when the moon is full." She looked around the dark forest and faded with a whirl wind, leaving Mordred alone with his thoughts.

So. He was going to kill Merlin, or Emrys as Morgana called him. A small part of him doubted his capability, but he shrugged that aside. He was more powerful than Emrys, surely. And if he succeeded, Morgana would be a powerful ally for the future.

"Who is Emrys?" A voice rang clear in his head. Anya.

"I didn't notice you," Mordred muttered, spinning around and facing her.

"I know," She replied smugly, leaning on her toes. "Mordred, I want to come with you."

"To Camelot? To kill the King? Bold words for one so young."

"No younger than you were."

Mordred knew that his tales of gallantry and daring escapes in Camelot would one day come back to bite him.

"Don't be ridiculous-"

"Why shouldn't I want to? I have as much reason as you, you know. You can hide your magic, but I can't even go into a village without being called a witch!" She pointed at her eyes, which glowed like fire in the dark.

"You may have magic and you may have cause, but you are still very weak. And what has brought about this feeling of treason all of a sudden?"

"It means that you will be going away to Camelot and it will be very dangerous and I want you to be safe and I want to make sure that you are safe," She rattled off.

Ah. No political motivation, just childish worry. Still, he was touched.

"I will be fine. More than fine." Anya opened her mouth to argue, but saw his expression and thought better of it. They walked back to the camp in silence, quietly entering separate tents.

For the next two weeks, Anya pestered Mordred whenever they were alone, ignoring his resolute decision that she was NOT going to Camelot and that he was more than old enough to take care of himself. However, he taught her more offensive and defensive magic in those weeks, perhaps subconsciously scared that he wouldn't come back to look after her, or that she would do something rash and get into trouble. Under the strictest confidence he taught her fire, solemnly warning her not to use it apart from as a last resort.

The moon grew full too quickly, and Mordred made sure that Anya was asleep before slipping out. He had managed to keep his plans secret from the other druids, who wouldn't look too kindly on the murder of the 'once and future king'. Mordred wasn't even sure that he was going to help Morgana yet. He wanted to be there because he didn't want to miss anything important, and to see just how much Arthur could bring to the land. Could he unite both magic and mundane? He had already brushed aside the laws of his ancestors and married a serving girl, Gwen. Mordred vaguely remembered her, to his cynical eyes she was not much more than a pretty face.

His black boots crackled leaves underfoot. He was dressed all in black – it seemed appropriate for the occasion. He didn't wear his cloak – summer was approaching and the distinct, druid like folds would attract too much attention. However, he was sure that Morgana would deliberately do just that – preferring to add a dramatic flair to the dirty job. Sure enough, as she melted from the shadows into view her black hair was piled on top of her head, and her lacy black dress clung to her flesh suggestively. Mordred sighed. "Whatever happened to 'several more powerful sorcerers'?"

"They didn't want to come. They think that Arthur will be a good king, but I know that they are wrong." Her voice shook with betrayal, and Mordred smirked a little. Always so superior.

"Then how do you plan to bring Emrys down?"

"I don't know!" She hissed. "If you know him so well, why don't you tell me?"

"His weakness is his kindness. His yearning to see good in people." Honestly, it was obvious, even for Mordred, who had only met him a few times. Wait a second... His blue eyes widened in shock. "Morgana... you do know who Emrys is, don't you?"

"You do?" Her words came quickly, desperately. Mordred laughed, had Morgana been chasing shadows this entire time?

"Emrys is only his name in prophecy. The name we druids call him. His mother gave him another name, obviously."

Morgana narrowed her eyes. "Go on," She whispered, her voice cracking.

"Morgana... Emrys is Merlin."

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**I have no regrets... :D...well, maybe a little.**

**Enjoy the cliff-hanger - please review!**


	3. Caught off guard

**Sorry for the delay people! Will try and get the next chapter written and uploaded as quickly as possible. **

**Should be around abouts Tuesday or Wednesday - I have it completely planned.**

**Enjoy! :)**

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Morgana frowned. "Don't be absurd, Emrys is an old man. Unless... Do you mean to say that Emrys has been Merlin in disguise all this time?" She gasped, shock written all over her face. "Merlin! You know what, it all makes sense now, how Merlin has always managed to escape, how he is always in the way. There's no way Arthur knows about this, all this time..." She laughed loudly, then her eyes narrowed. "The traitor. He must be killed. Too long have Emrys and Merlin thwarted me, and now I discover that they are one and the same!" Her voice trailed off as she muttered to herself, still in shock. "We must find a way to use his good heart against him. You remember how he helped you escape, because you were a child."

Mordred felt a shrinking feeling inside of him. "I fear that I no longer come under the category of 'innocent child'," he said hurriedly. "Now let's depart for Camelot, we need to-"

Morgana raised her hand suddenly, and Mordred fell silent. "Do you hear that?" She whispered. Mordred closed his eyes, wishing that the situation wouldn't spiral out of control. But he had known all along what would end up happening. Perhaps in some long forgotten prophetic dream. He hadn't wanted to admit it to himself, but he knew, with a gut wrenching pang.

"Anya, if you are listening, go away," He thought desperately. "Run, back to the camp." Curse the day that he had taught her to build a shield so strong that it would hide her even from him. Curse the day that she first came to him. This couldn't end well. But it must.

Sure enough, she stumbled out from behind a tree, her face impassive. "I thought you were asleep," He thought to her angrily, and she looked guilty for a moment. Good. She should be.

"Who is this?" Morgana asked sharply, conjuring a flicker of fire from her index finger.

"This is my sister, Anya." Perhaps claiming a family bond would protect her. He moved before her in a defensive stance.

"I didn't know you had a sister! Don't you see, Mordred, this is brilliant!" Morgana had a wild look in her eyes, and she threw back her head and laughed. "You said yourself, you aren't innocent any longer, but she is! We can use her Mordred; we can use her as a distraction, to stop Emrys!"

"She is not bait!" Mordred hissed, clenching his fists.

"I want to help."

"No you don't Anya, you want to go back to the camp, back to Fallon and Cillian. Now."

Anya tilted her head back defiantly. "You can't stop me, Mordred. I will go with you to Camelot. I want to help."

"You won't be going anywhere, we are leaving. I'm not going to Camelot." He was angry, angry at Morgana for her audacity, angry with Anya for deceiving him and following him, angry that he had ever agreed to go with Morgana to kill Emrys, angry that he could feel his control spilling swiftly away from him.

"We are leaving..." Morgana mused, her eyes narrowed. "Yes. We are."

Suddenly she was behind him, and then she was gone, along with Anya. Mordred blinked, lost for words. The shock left him speechless. What had just happened? Had Morgana taken Anya? What was going on?

"Think, Mordred, think," He muttered aloud, staring at the spot where Anya had just vanished. "They go to Camelot. To kill the king. Morgana has Anya. Morgana has Anya." Suddenly, it hit him. "Morgana!" He screamed, feeling raw power escape him. He clenched his eyes tight and thought more fiercely than ever before. "Morgana! Give her back!" He wasn't even sure that she could hear him, but he would try. He would rip his body apart as uncontrollable power surged through him. He wanted her to know how much he hated her.

He realised that he was kneeling down on the forest floor, and gradually opened his eyes, sitting up. The forest around him was completely destroyed, trees on the floor, burning with fire. He was powerful, and nobody was going to stop him. Morgana would not get in his way. He would go to Camelot and get Anya back. And then he was going to make Morgana wish that she had never been born. He heard a rustle in the trees, and turned sharply. The druid camp. He cursed his stupidity and inability to be quiet; the camp was surely awake and coming in his direction. Hastily, he scrambled up on his feet.

"Mordred."

It caught him off guard. He was letting his guard down in his anger and shock. "Hello Cillian." He eyed him warily as Cillian shrugged, urgency written on his face.

"What happened?"

"They... She took Anya, Cillian! She took her, and I don't know what they will do to her!"

"Anya...MY Anya? My daughter? What was she doing out here Mordred? Answer me!" His voice steadily rose in volume, and Mordred sighed.

"There was a plot, not that it matters now. Cillian, I'm going after her."

"You know where she is? Tell me, and I will go!"

"Think about that. You don't even have magic. Be reasonable. Now, there is not a moment to lose." Mordred looked at Cillian, with his rusty coloured hair and his watery eyes. He couldn't look more different than his adopted daughter if he had tried. The same went for Fallon, with their soft features and weak eyes. Mordred hadn't really thought about it before, but he supposed that two years would be enough time to learn to love someone. He looked at Cillian and knew that he loved Anya. For some reason, he felt a surge of jealousy, but bit it back. Getting jealous over stupid little things would be no good to him now.

"Don't you dare mention any of this to Fallon," Cillian spat. "I will say that she went to the market with you. Bring Anya back soon, or I will be holding you completely responsible."

"Trust me. I will get her back safely if it kills me." He meant it. Over two years, Anya had grown to be someone he loved as if she were his own child.

He turned abruptly from Cillian, who muttered an ancient blessing to him. Camelot was to the west, he was fairly sure. Three days ride, but he didn't have a horse. He had magic. He sped through the trees, his feet barely treading on the ground as he sped along, his magic guiding him, and giving him greater speed than the chariots of old. He focused on moving, trying to pacify his emotions. They would only get in the way, and prevent him from getting there in time. As the great city of Camelot drew nearer, he could feel his energy draining. It was good in the sense that his magic had finally been used to the full and he no longer felt completely restless, but bad in the fact that he would need all of the power he could get. He knew Morgana wouldn't delay or hesitate, she was too head strong. He also knew that she would likely make a scene, threatening something dreadful to Anya in front of Emrys. Mordred hated to wonder if Emrys would actually choose to save Anya when it would mean risking the life of his king.

He pressed on, slowed to a normal pace, and slipped through the outer gates, his mind open and waiting for the first sign of Morgana, or, more importantly, Anya.

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**Thanks for reading ^^**

**Please review? Constructive criticism needed!**

**:)**


	4. The grey man

**Thanks for remaining patient - things are about to get interesting. The angst begins.**

This chapter really deals with Anya's past - necessary for when/if she meets the other child of Balinor (no suprises who that is :D)

**Man, I love this chapter :D 3 Enjoy ^^**

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He walked up and down the narrow streets systematically, and it is dawn before he had searched the entire lower city. They must be in the court then. He sensed them well before he saw them, the image flashing in his head as he races along, trying to find the source. Merlin and Anya, standing close together. Emrys was there, frowning. Mordred couldn't make out what Morgana is saying, but hears Emrys yell from where he is. It's Anya, suddenly dripping with blood, her eyes growing dim. Mordred desperately raced down the street and turned a corner into the courtyard. He could only watch in horror as Anya collapsed to the floor in a crumpled heap, her little yellow cloak fluttering behind her.

Morgana smirked at Merlin, than she saw him. Mordred stormed forward towards her, thinking in red, blood pounding in his ears. Morgana looked slightly panicky for a moment, before turning back to Merlin, giving him a small smirk, then dissolving into a flock of ravens, flapping and cawing as they each sped away in separate directions. Mordred knew automatically what to do, he impulsively stretched out his arms, fire dancing below his skin, and pulled the frantic birds together. There was no way that Morgana was getting away. He would make her pay. After much flapping and flailing, the birds solidified into Morgana, who tried running away. Mordred tried not to look at Anya's form on the ground as he ran after her his eyes flashing with rage and his whole being trembling with power. He caught up with Morgana and took her away; somewhere far away where he could hurt her in peace, away from the annoying guards of Camelot and the people who shrieked at the sight of him blazing.

"She came willingly!" Morgana screamed, falling to her knees.

"You hurt her. Why did you do that? What could that achieve? You really shouldn't have." Mordred didn't know how he was so calm, his thoughts clear and aligned. His magic had taken them to a serene place; a field on a hillside somewhere. The grass swayed and the daisies shone, their golden centres bright under the sun.

_Anya._

With her shining eyes, her bouncing hair, her limbs still so small and frail. He could've taught her so much more – magic and legends. He could've helped her find her place in the world, and now it was too late.

_No. Don't think about her._

Her glittering laugh, her childish curiosity, and the way she snuggled up to him when she was tired. Her defiance as she went against him.

"Enough!" Mordred shouted, and Morgana flinched, shrinking down until she was practically grovelling to him. 'How did someone with so much pride become a snivelling wreck?,' Mordred wondered silently. 'She is afraid of me. Good.'

"Stop grovelling," He ordered quietly, staring down at her with a look that could shatter glass. "And stand up. Stand up so I can watch you _run_." His manner mildly surprised him, and he cocked his head to one side. Would he like to see her run? Does he really want her to feel pain? She had helped him in the past. No. NO. He must forget that. Think of Anya. Then Morgana. Petrified, driven beyond any sense, so that she tugged her hair from her head, with her watery eyes wild. It helps the wound, doesn't it? Thinking of Anya doesn't hurt so much when he replaces her body with Morgana's. It wasn't sadism, not really. It was justice, and Mordred was the only one able to dish it out.

Morgana had cruelly taken the only thing in his life that was of any importance, yet here she was; breathing before him while the sun shone and the grass swayed and the flowers bloomed, and it was all perfectly distorted.

Morgana had gathered her scattered wits and had risen, tilting her head back, balling her fists and trying to smile, all the while avoiding eye contact. Mordred could feel her collecting and gathering her magic and he almost laughed abruptly. It might cause the grass to still and the air to buzz, but it wouldn't even present a challenge for him.

"Stick to your dreams and prophecies," Mordred spat. "You can't stop me." Mordred enveloped her magic easily – he trapped it against her so that she couldn't project it out, whether in the offense or defence. He could feel her struggling and this time he actually did laugh. How pitiful.

"Morgana," Mordred began, trying to keep his voice level but somehow failing as the image of Anya appeared in his head. He looked down at Morgana – with her fluttering eyelids and stretched lips. She quivered in anger, while Mordred stood coolly. Had he stolen her composure from her? He would never know.

"I will show you what you have shown me. That's only fair, yes? Morgana, you will feel pain, acute and deep. And I will be the one administering it to you."

"You're crazy!" She gasped fearfully.

"Not crazy. You deserve it, after all. It is fair." Mordred's lips stretched into a wide grin, and he manically laughed.

"Kill me," Morgana whispered as she winced, fearing that Mordred had actually tumbled head first into insanity. A tear of apprehension slid down her cheek as she watched Mordred regain a straight face.

"Kill you, Morgana? Oh, no. No, no, no. We've got so much to do. And, no time like the present."

Morgana tensed her body and braced herself.

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I stand amongst the trees, my small, soft boots damp from the water that clings to the edges of the orange leaves that cover the forest floor. It is nothing like the bleak, barren fields of home, with marshes and livestock. I picture the small, wooden farm house, with its straw roof and low fence. I picture the cold floor of stone, my mother's bed, my grandfather's bed, the pots and pans lined up by the hearth, which always had a constant fire raging in it. I picture Grandfather returning home after a long day in the fields. His beard was like snow, and his eyes like coal. He told me that I had his hair, but I couldn't see how. My hair is yellow, not white.

Mother is talking with the man wearing grey. Mother is bringing me to him, because he will take me to my new home. Mother said that she can't come with me because she must look after grandfather. He cried when we left for this place. I told him not to worry, that I would look after Mother. She took my wrist and slapped the back of my hand sharply. I'm always saying wrong things, things that will get me into trouble. Like mother says, it would be better if I didn't speak at all.

The man in grey stands out sharply against the orange, and I take a closer look at him. He is tall, as tall as Grandfather. He has the same expression written on his face as well, as if he has seen everything but doesn't want to talk about it. I pretend that this man is Grandfather when he was younger. I picture the man with dark eyes and light hair replacing his blue eyes and black hair.

Mother makes a loud sound, like a wail. She does that a lot, and Grandfather says that she wails because of me. That everything is Balinor's fault. I study the man in grey again. Did father look like him? I know that his hair was dark. Every man I see, I compare them to Balinor and Grandfather. I'm trying to decide who I look like the most.

My attention is suddenly back on Mother – the grey man is hissing at her. He waves his arms and my mother wails more. I see red lines appear on her skin and my eyes widen. Magic? Wow. I want to do that. Mother runs away and she leaves me behind, with the grey magic man.

"Hello little one," He says, kneeling down. I look into his eyes and picture them dark again. Father had magic. "Mama has gone," I tell him, pretending that he is Balinor. That father has come to take me with him. "What's your name?" I ask, hoping that he will reply with 'Balinor'.

"I'm Mordred."

* * *

Now, as I lie on these cobbles, I feel mother's pain. My stomach is slashed and the people around me gasp. "Why aren't they helping me?" I think, my face pressed against the ground. I keep my eyes firmly closed because I can feel blood dribbling down on them from my forehead. I feel every cut precisely, can tell exactly how deep they are, how wide and long they are. And each one hurts. I am on fire. Anya, brightness. As bright as my body consumed by flame. Then the flames turn to ice, they sting my skin and my insides. My head aches dully. I can no longer feel my cloak atop me. My thoughts slowly dim, my senses are numbed. Then, my mind finally drifts away, leaving only black. The last think I saw remains strong in my head. The last thing to stay until I am completely gone.

Mordred.

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**How did you find it? Was it okay? :)**

**Reviews save lives... Including Anya's. **

**Next chapter up in a minimum of two weeks time - going camping. Without wi-fi. :'(**


	5. Time

**Wrote this at 3 this morning - haven't been able to upload and wanted to get something out fast.**  
**Sorry for any bad mistakes as a result...**  
**Enjoy :)**

**Wow, this chapter is dark.**  
**WARNING - torture, depression and graphic violence. Twisted Mordred basically.**

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Time passed. For Mordred, it crawled slowly, the hours and days melting into each other, the moon sluggishly waxing and waning. He slept when he needed to and ate when he needed to – time and custom was irrelevant. He didn't return to the druid camp, but took Morgana to the far north wilderness, home to the savages, who wouldn't pay him too much attention or ask irritating questions. He found lodgings in a small inn in the middle of nowhere, and paid for his bed and food with a few stolen coins.

He constructed a cage in the heart of a twisting cave, charming the wood to make it unbreakable. There Morgana stayed, alone in the dark with only the steady drip of echoing water for company. Every now and then Mordred would visit her, talk to her, then make her long for death. Sometimes he used magic, and sometimes just physical weapons. As the months passed, he gradually forgot his motivation, and it became habit. Something he just did to pass the time. He became quite inventive and creative with his methods, experimenting with new spells and making her bleed; never to death. Just in the most painful of ways.

He learnt where she bled the least, he learnt where to twist and pull and slice most effectively. He learnt about how to overcome her mental barriers, how simple repetition over time could drive her insane. He would always greet her smiling, with a: "Hello Morgana. Are you ready to continue our game? I'm sure by now that you know the rules." To him, it was just that – a game. A personal challenge to keep his mind active and away from other thoughts. Thoughts of her. So to keep the grief from overwhelming him and suffocating him, he became indifferent, indifferent to Morgana, indifferent to the people at the tavern. He clung to routine, not once questioning himself, and having not one ounce of remorse or regret.

Then, he would list all that he would do to her in the wrong order, so that she would be prematurely thanking him for making the pain stop, only to have her hopes dashed by further, and intensified pain. After a while she gave up pleading, gave up thanking. Her eyes looked dead, and the only sounds that left her mouth were screams of hurt and the quick, desperate gasps of someone urgently trying to drag oxygen back into their lungs.

However, sometimes his preoccupation with Morgana wasn't enough to completely absorb his attention, and those occasions found him downing flask after flask of the notoriously potent tavern mead. Clang! He shoved the empty glass back on the table, and the bar maid quickly filled it up again, recognising him as a regular and remembering that he could be bad tempered when drunk. Best knock him out completely. She eyed him closely, of late he seemed to be drinking more frequently, and more rapidly. This was his seventh mug, but he was still perched on top of his stool, and it didn't take too much fumbling before he pushed a small bronze coin across the bar top to her, then quickly became immersed in his drink. Ah well, it was his life, after all. He could ruin it or live it; who was she to judge him?

The liquid burnt his throat, but Mordred didn't even flinch. His mind was far away as his hand automatically lifted the flask to his lips. What was it that he had to forget? Morgana? No, she was locked away in the cave. He squinted, his memory becoming blurry. Somebody, he was fairly sure of that.

"...Anya..."

Mordred froze. That name. Her name. But who had said it? The man to his left. Mordred whirled around suddenly, and grabbed the man by his collar. "What did you say?!" He slurred loudly, and felt the tavern grow still. Keen eyes, nosy and longing to see a fight, were trained on him. The man blinked and glanced at his friend or help, suddenly disorientated.

"I was talking of magic," He whispered furtively. Mordred shook him, and he hastily continued. "I come from Camelot, a land far south of here. The laws against the use of magic have been revoked."

"Anya, you said Anya!" Mordred spat.

"Yes, the girl who made it happen."

Mordred let go of the man, and turned away. "Describe her to me," He ordered, and the man started.

"Umm, girl, blonde hair, has magic, used to live with the druids. Daughter of Balinor, the last dragon lord. That's all common knowledge." He narrowed his eyes. "Why?"

Mordred was outside of the tavern, the door clanging shut behind him. The icy wind flushed away any hold that the alcohol had on him, and he steadied himself on the doorframe out of shock. Anya was... alive? How? How long had it been since that day? More than a year, he was fairly certain. Two then? Three? Even four? He paid little attention to the passing of seasons.

Morgana should be released.

After all, it was only fair. She hadn't actually killed Anya, it appears. Besides, she was pretty much lifeless anyway. She had given up long ago. She always shook up these gut-wrenching sobs and her limbs quavered. It grew fairly annoying. Melting into the air, he appeared by her cage. "Morgana!" He sang. "Guess what! Our little-" He stopped abruptly, and another wave of shock hit him.

'I think I might need a chair,' He thought, astounded, before sinking to his knees on the cave floor. He gripped the cage bars and stared at the lifeless body of Morgana. Anya and her had switched places, just as it always should have been. He gripped the rough bars tighter and rested his forehead against the wood, staring at her dead body. She was curled up into a ball, and completely covered in bright red blood, parts of which had begun to dry and flake. She had managed to get hold of one of Mordred's bone handled knives, and had thrust it through her stomach.

Then Mordred looked closer. Her hair was mostly gone, though a few clumps remained, growing from her grey scalp. Her face was bruised, and deep red and pale pink scars swirled on her cheeks, across her dull eyes, over her entire body. The bottom half of her ears – torn away. Her dress was mere rags, wet from the moisture in the cave and from Mordred's use of water in his torture. And the smell – rotting flesh mixed with blood and excrement. He wrinkled his nose, and covered it with the back of his hand. How utterly horrible. Disgusting. That she should be so proud as to take her own life, when he was clearly superior to her! She went behind his back, stole from him even. And he had been just about to release her too. Her death was, therefore, her own fault, and Mordred was completely innocent in the matter.

He stood up and quickly departed, leaving the body and cage as he had found them, and allowed them to be forgotten underneath the mountain. He quickly gathered up his belongings, wrapped himself in furs, and set out for Camelot, where Anya was surely waiting. He pictured her face light up, and smiled.

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**Next chapter will be Anya POV and longer, starting from where we left her off :)**

Will feature Merlin, Gaius, and a certain sibling revelation...possibly. Or not. :P  
  
**Please review?**


	6. Awake

**Switching to Anya POV for a while :) Enjoy!**

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I was awake, and the sudden jerk back to consciousness caught me completely off guard. But more surprising was the complete lack of pain. I moved my hand under the sheets to where the cuts were, and I felt something tight and rough bound around my stomach. A bandage? But who...?

"Gaius, I healed her." A man's voice, and very close to me. He sounded fairly friendly, and his voice sounded slightly like Cillian's. Not Mordred's. Where was he? Was he going to come and save me?

_Mordred, can you hear me? I'm sorry._

I heard a sound like a door being closed, and decided to fight against my instinct and keep my eyes shut, certain that the yellow would only frighten them and put me in danger.

"She is going to be alright?" The friendly one asked, and I felt acold hand pressed to my forehead. I tried not to flinch.

"A slight fever perhaps, but nothing that along sleep cannot heal. You did well in healing her."

What was going on? Friendly man healed me? But how? These people weren't druids, and they definitely weren't allowed to use magic.

"Did anyone see you?" Gaius whispered.

"I made sure," Friendly man sighed.

"We must hope so."

The cold hand was replaced with a wet cloth and I once again drifted into the black.

* * *

When I awoke again, my skin felt cool under the thin sheet and my tattered nightdress. After straining my ears to make sure that I was alone, I slowly opened my eyes and found myself looking at a white stone ceiling. Where was I? I jerked upright and surveyed the room that I was in. It was really messy, with books and jars and scrolls scattered over every surface. I was sitting on something wooden, and a small window interrupted the wall on my right. I watched thesun rise over the city, lighting up the streets, people, and far away forests.

Was Mordred still in the druid camp? Was he waiting for me to come back? But surely he knows that I don't know where the camp is! What about Cillian and Fallon? Has Mordred told them where I went? I shouldn't have left them, they have looked after me ever since I came to the camp. A tear slid down my cheek, and another, but I try to keep quiet as I look out over the already busy city. I can see the courtyard from here, and suddenly remember Morgana. What would she do? Would she come looking for me? Where was Mordred? She was so tall, but not good tall, like Mordred. Bad tall. I barely came up to her waist when she dragged me out and used her magic against me. I wrap my arms around my bandaged stomach and wish that I had not followed Mordred. My magic was feeble compared to Morgana's, I was stupid.

"It's alright," Friendly man said, sitting beside me, and I jumped, quickly pressing my hands to my face, covering my eyes. Between my fingers, I caught a glimpse of him. He had short hair the colour the same as Mordred's hair, and bright blue eyes.

"It's alright," He repeated gently, gripping my hands and slowly coaxing them away from my face. I decide to look at him – it was inevitable that he would see them eventually. Might as well get it over with. He frowned for a moment, and I expected the worst, but then his features relaxed.

"You possess magic? Don't be ashamed, it isn't a bad thing."

"I know," I sniffed, wiping my eyes with the back of my tattered sleeves.

"How old are you?" He asked suddenly. I supposed that crying made me seem younger.

"I'm seven," I replied thickly, glaring at him. "I'm not little."

"No, I just-" He broke off suddenly, and sighed abruptly. "You were with Morgana."

"Where is she?!" I asked, trying not to cry more.

"She won't hurt you, I promise." He looked sincere, and I smiled a little sadly.

"She already did," I reminded him, and his eyebrows pulled down.

"Who are you?" He asked, both curious and troubled.

"A druid. My name's Anya."

He made a swift motion with his hands, telling me to continue. "I live with Cillian and Fallon, but they aren't my real parents." I thought of Mordred, and then further back in my mind, where the images of Kensa and Grandfather were hazy and blurred. Then I thought of Balinor, who I had never met. People always leave me, or go away from me, and I wondered if that was my fault.

"Balinor is my real Father," I informed him, and he jumped, his eyes wide.

"Balinor?" He repeated, his voice shaking slightly. He swallowed loudly. "Who is that?"

I frowned. "I don't really know, but he was the last dragon lord."

Friendly man was shaking his head, his mouth open, and he stared at me with wide eyes. I wondered if I had said something wrong, because he was looking as though I had. "Sorry," I muttered quickly, but I don't think he heard. He closed his mouth abruptly, and narrowed his eyes. I felt a shrinking feeling inside of me.

"Gaius!" He called, and the shrinking feeling rapidly increased as a short man with white hair and a sweeping red robe bustled in.

"Merlin, you're up early," He greeted him, and I froze. Merlin? This man, Friendly man, was Merlin? The one that Mordred was going to kill? But why?! He seemed so nice, even if his current vacant expression was a bit scary. Gaius saw me awake and hurried over, placing a cool hand on my forehead. "How are you feeling?" He asked.

"I'm all better," I replied truthfully.

"Your eyes...Most unusual," He muttered. Merlin stood up, shuffling his feet. He didn't seem to know where to look, but his mouth had dropped open again.

"Gaius, lend me a moment?" He asked quietly, and I looked away, focusing on the city. Merlin had healed me. He had magic.

"Thank you," I whispered, and didn't look around to see if he heard me. They were talking quickly and quietly, and the hair on the back of my neck stood up I caught my name, and then Balinor's. I whirled around. "Do you know Balinor?" I asked eagerly, but my smile falters at their wary expressions. They shared a knowing glance before Merlin walked over to me.

"I'll make some breakfast, shall I?" Gaius departed hastily. I looked expectantly at Merlin, who seemed to be on the brink of saying something.

"You healed me," I told him, and he started out of his stupor, nodding quickly. I smile widely, ignoring his wary attitude. "Thank you." He still looked as if there was something he wanted to say. "You look like my brother Mordred."

"Mordred is your brother?!" He looked appalled and thunder-struck.

"Not my real brother, he just looks after me in the camp. My mother left me with him."

Merlin laughed shakily, almost relieved. He shook his head, smiling. I nervously wondered if he was a bit unhinged; he certainly looked a little bit crazy now.

"What brings you to Camelot?" He asked, and I shudder.

"Morgana took me to trick you, or something. She wanted to kill the King. She stole me from Mordred."

Merlin placed a hand on my arm. "You can stay here until you are fully healed."

I didn't know why I was trusting this strange man with his shifting expressions, and bewildered look, so I asked him.

"I knew your Father," He admitted after a deep pause, with his brow furrowed. He shook his head again, and I wondered what was wrong with him. He was in a daze.

"What was Balinor like?" I asked.

"He..." Merlin faltered and drew in a deep, shaky breath. "He was brave, and good, and just, and honest, and kind, so kind. But he was alone." His voice cracked and I noticed tears clinging to his eyelashes.

"You're crying!" I exclaim, dismayed.

"I'm crying because I'm surprised, but also because... I'm ... happy? Wow!" He laughed a little manically, wiping the tears away from his eyes, his mouth still hung open.

That was confusing, and I frowned. "Why are you surprised?" I asked warily. And then it all exploded out of his mouth in a great rush.

"Because Balinor the dragon lord is my father too."

A stunned silence fell, and he bit his lower lip, looking as if he regretted his outburst. "But I didn't know that he had other children!" He admitted, frowning. My mouth mimicked his and fell. I appraised him after that statement, unsure of how to react. Merlin was my brother? Then what did that make Mordred? I didn't want to lose him. Merlin and I appraised each other evenly, and I was surprised at how calm I was. Why wasn't this shocking me like it was Merlin? I supposed that I was sort of used to changing families by now. Maybe it would hit me later. Maybe my head was spinning too much for me to notice. Merlin broke the silence.

"You don't have to use your magic all of the time. You are safe here." Oh. Was he referring to my eyes? He gripped my wrists, his brow furrowed in concentration, startling me. Slowly, I felt tension drain from my body as my guards were slowly relaxed. They weren't strong enough to protect me, anyway. It was an odd feeling, to be completely helpless and yet completely at ease with this strange man who claimed to be my brother. I didn't know him yet, but with a rush thought of what this might mean for the future. Would I stay with him in Camelot? Would I grow to know him so well that I would WANT to stay with him in Camelot? I caught his gaze and he smiled wildly.

"Are my eyes normal now?" I blush, suddenly shy around him.

"They are brown, just like your Father." He surveyed me with an odd expression on his face, and I knew his head to still be reeling; he looked positively giddy. As a pleasant aroma wafted into the room, I tentatively returned his shocked smile.

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**I hope that reveal was more believable - I suck at reveals -_-**

**Thanks for reading this far - will try and hurry with the next chapter :) **

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*Spoiler* - Might have a brief run in with a certain Pendragon... Might not... ;o


	7. Physician

**No idea why this chapter is so long XD Is that good or bad? :L**

**The spells etc are written in Old English, so feel free to correct any errors that I have made. Dictionary found at the bottom of the page :)**

**Would like to thank everyone who had taken the time to review/ favourite etc 3 Really does make my day!**

**Enjoy!**

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I shovelled my porridge down my throat, swinging my feet, as Merlin and Gauis looked at me in utter shock. Merlin hadn't stopped grinning.

"I can hardly believe it," Gaius kept on muttering, shaking his head. I kept my head down and ate, every bite washed flavour through my mouth, and I couldn't remember ever feeling this ravenous.

"This is good," I told Gaius blissfully, and he smirked.

"See, Merlin? It is more than edible."

Merlin laughed, and took another bite of his apple absently.

"Are you certain that your Father is Balinor?" Gaius asked me seriously. I looked at Merlin, at the way he had willingly welcomed me into his house, and I didn't want to loose him already. Something that good, that I hadn't yet had chance to explore, and now I saw it slipping through my fingers.

Merlin shook his head. "She is, Gaius. I can't explain it, but I just know." Gaius pursed his lips. "Trust me," Merlin urged. I kept quiet and shrank down on my stool, placing the spoon into the now empty porridge bowl. I shouldn't be here. Right now, I should be with Cillian, Fallon, and Mordred, eating a thick, honeyed soup. For a long moment, I felt lost.

"He was here you know," Merlin said in my mind, and I looked up questioningly. "Mordred came here, just after you were attacked. He took Morgana somewhere, but don't be afraid. He is the most powerful druid that I have ever met. You will not be harmed, and neither will he."

I frown. "But-"

"Merlin!" Stomping footsteps raged up the corridor, and a man burst through the door, his blonde hair sticking up and his blue eyes angry. He wore armour, and I observed the shiny metal; it was unlike anything that I had ever seen. "I can't believe that I still have to do this," He muttered to himself, and then loudly addressed Merlin. "Have you forgotten something?" He noticed me and halted. "Who's this?" He asked in a more restrained tone.

"This man is the king," Merlin thought to me swiftly, standing up abruptly. "I'll just fetch my bag!" He called, dashing into his room.

"A patient, sire," Gaius replied, and I lowered my eyes, frightened. This was the king, and I was a druid. I could feel my magic bubbling up again, so I looked at my feet.

"I haven't seen her in the court before. Do you speak, child?"

I flinched. "Yes, sire." I was suddenly aware of my tattered and blood stained nightdress, and the king evidently was too. He asked quickly, "Gaius, is there something that I should know about? Some wild beast, or-"

"Nothing, sire. She was badly injured by raiders in the eastern woods. Merlin found her near death and brought her to me." I raised my eyebrows slightly; he was an impressive liar.

"When was this?"

"Three days hence, sire."

"Raiders. What would they have to gain from injuring a child?" He sounded disgusted. "I'll look into it, send out a patrol or something. MERLIN!"

"Coming, coming!" Merlin hastily shut his bedroom door behind him and rushed over, subtly pressing something into my hands as the King dramatically rolled his eyes.

"Don't look now," He thought to me quickly as King Arthur started an angry rant about Merlin's tardiness and general sloppiness. "Father made it. It'll protect you while I'm gone, and will keep your eyes brown. I'll return in a few days. Keep your identity hidden and your head down until my return."

"You sound just like Mordred, telling me what to do," I replied silently, a little sourly.

"I'm worried, and maybe he was too. Gaius will look after you and explain anything to you."

Merlin stepped closer to the king, who had paused for breath, and shrugged his bag onto his back. "Coming?" He asked pleasantly, before swiftly departing, closely followed by a slightly stunned looking King Arthur, who slammed the door shut behind him.

I heaved a sigh of relief and opened my hands to reveal a small, carved, wooden dragon, its wings smooth and the pale wood without blemish. Balinor, my father, the last dragon lord, had made this. It was so real, and I turned it over and over.

"Gaius," I began slowly, "Why do I have to keep who I am hidden?"

Gaius paused, very deliberately. "Magic is outlawed. If it ever came to light that Merlin's father was a dragon lord, people might put two and two together and realise that he has magic."

"Do you think that I am his sister?"

He looked weary. "I don't know. But let's get you into some decent clothes. It just so happens that I have some spare clothes reserved for my patients when they come to me completely bedraggled." I nodded, thinking that he talked an awful lot. He handed me a plain white shift, turning his back and clearing away the breakfast bowls and spoons as I dragged my aching limbs out of my nightdress then in to the shift. As I did so, I noticed the bandages that wrapped around me from my waist to just under my arms. I asked Gaius about it.

"I'm a physician, and no stranger to bad wounds. Merlin healed the most of it, but I would leave the bandages on for a while yet. I will need to change the dressings tomorrow."

I got the feeling that he didn't quite know what to make of me, but I thanked him for his trouble. Something about his gruff manner reminded me of Grandfather, and that thought alone made me feel more at ease.

"What does a physician do?" I asked suddenly, gripping the carving tightly and looking at all of the bizarre and curious instruments and equipment that were scattered across one of his work benches.

"I heal people." He donned a battered pair of spectacles and sat down heavily at his work bench. I looked over his shoulder, eager to see what he was doing. He had gathered several different plants and bottles of sweet and foul smelling liquids, all labelled. "Can you read them?" He asked, noticing my interest, and I shrugged, not really knowing what he meant. He picked up a small bottle of fiery red liquid and handed it to me with the label facing upwards.

"Salamander blood," I translated.

"'Aledfir buend dreor' is what it reads. But you translated it to the modern tongue! It is written in the language of the old religion!" Gaius gaped, and I was filled with the unpleasant sensation that I had done something wrong.

"So?" I asked quietly.

"So you can speak the language of magic. Did you learn?" I shook my head. "Neither did Merlin."

I blinked, not sure of what he was getting at. "Dragon lords are creatures of the old religion, and the language flows freely from their lips, a skill that their descendants possess today."

"You're clever." Gaius smiled slightly.

"Can you find me Mugwort?" He asked, and I scanned the labels.

"There!" I pointed to a few slender sprigs of a pink flower, and Gaius swiftly picked one up, plucked the petals off, then dropped them into a small wooden bowl. "What are you doing?" I asked curiously – I had never seen the druids use such ingredients in their cooking before.

"Making a simple sleep inducing draught; some members of the court have trouble getting to sleep at night." There was a moment of silence while he poured a generous amount of goat saliva into the now paste like mixture, then added something green that I didn't have the chance to read. "It isn't always prudent to ask too many questions," He chided slowly, mixing the paste vigorously. I blinked, not knowing what 'prudent' meant.

"Sorry."

He shook his head. "What I meant to say is... some people don't like it. But you can ask me questions."

I was sort of intimidated by Gaius by this point, and wandered off, not really sure what to do with myself. Mordred had gone with Morgana somewhere, I didn't know where Cillian and Fallon where, and my brother, who I had only just met, had left me in this strange place with a strange old man who reminded me of Grandfather. I gripped the dragon carving tighter, running my thumb up and down its tail.

_My Father carved this, with his own hands. _

I explored the room for a little while, craning my neck to read the book titles on the higher shelves. The titles were varied, ranging from 'Alchemy: Magic or Myth' and 'Basic Anatomy Vol. 7' to 'The Ancient Chronicles' or '50 headache cures'. I curiously flipped one open and shut it again quickly. It was compiled of long words that I didn't understand, or faded paintings of objects that I didn't recognise. Perhaps when I was older...

In another corner of the room some liquid that smelt of burnt wood was bubbling in a large cauldron over the glowing embers of a dying fire. A small, elaborately decorated mirror was on the mantle-piece above it, looking slightly out of place. I reached up, grabbed its handle, and peeped into it, nearly dropping it out of shock. I saw my face, small and rounded, but my eyes...They weren't mine. Or they were. I hadn't decided yet. They had large, shiny black pupils with irises of deep brown. They made my face look smaller and my skin paler. 'Mordred probably wouldn't recognise me now,' I thought glumly, placing the mirror back.

Exploring the rest of the room I found several more curious things, included a cat mask with slitted eye holes and silver whiskers, a jug full of water that didn't pour, big bronze coins the size of my hand, and a large box emitting a foul stench that was labelled 'Innobas – Gesenas.'

Gaius was heating the now vialed solution and I slipped quietly into Merlin's bedroom. Sunlight streamed in through the small window onto an unmade bed. Dirty clothes littered the floor and I gingerly shoved them to the side with my feet, my nose wrinkled.

Suddenly, something in the corner of my eye caught my attention. Something blue glittered under his bed. Within a second I was lying with my stomach pressed against the stone floor, seeing what was under there. It was nothing more than a dusty crystal imbedded in the top of a walking staff. There was also a locked chest, and a thick book entitled ' Galdorword', meaning 'Magic Spells'. I eagerly grabbed it, slithered out, placed it on the foot of his bed, knelt on the floor beside it, and flipped it open with delight. As I flicked through the book my suspicions were confirmed. It contained every single spell that Mordred couldn't taught me, hadn't taught me, and probably didn't even know about.

There were healing spells with gory illustrations, element manipulation, conjuring spells, illusion casting spells. As I neared the end of the book the spells rapidly grew more dark and gruesome, bewitching people, hurting people. I didn't need an angry Mordred to tell me that I must NEVER use these. They were horrible. I turned back to the middle and saw a spell that took my fancy – a colour changing spell. I glanced down at the white shift that I wore, then thought of my yellow cloak. I eagerly read the instructions, but with growing disappointment. This spell required you to know the words for the colour and object in the language of the old religion, and while I could translate from it, I wasn't certain that I could translate to it.

I squeezed my eyes tight shut, hoping that the words would somehow pop into my head. They didn't. I opened my eyes, heaved a sigh, and flicked to the next page. I straightened. This seemed more like it! A simple word to conjure up water. I switched the wood carving to my left hand and held my right as it illustrated, with my forefinger and thumb curled into my palm. I looked at the spell again. Ea. "Ea, ea, ea," I whispered as I memorised it. I looked down at my hand, picturing water flowing from it. I remembered what Mordred had taught me: 'Let the magic flow through you. Train the bubbling mess inside of you; smooth it out, let it coat your skin, and then send it where you need it.' I felt my magic stream through me, tingling my finger tips, waiting for an instruction.

"Ea." My eyes blazed again, my magic exploded outwards from my right hand. Making me jump, a stream of water suddenly sprang out of my palm and onto the book, which I hastily pushed back. I stood up quickly as the stream splashed onto the floor, my feet, and my dress.

"Stop!" I cried, as a puddle started to form on the floor at my feet. "I said stop!" I shouted, and waved my hand frantically. The water gushed loudly, and I started to panic. Think, think! What can I do?

"Alinnan!" I cried, and the torrent ceased as abruptly as it had commenced. I wiped my wet palm on my equally wet dress, relieved. I had caught the worst of it; I had pushed the book away in time and the stone floor would easily dry.

The door burst open and I jumped. I had completely forgotten about Gauis. Oops. He looked astounded and I tried to wipe of my guilty expression. "What on earth happened here?" He asked angrily.

"I-I didn't mean to-" I fumbled, but stopped as he raised an eyebrow. He noticed the open spell-book and my heart sank. Uh-oh. I studied him apprehensively. I had seen his expression on Mordred and Cillian many times – always when I had done something wrong.

"Anya, it's dangerous to use magic in Camelot," He began. "And little tricks are certainly not worth getting caught. You should use your magic for good, but keep it secret, for Merlin's sake, if not your own. Camelot isn't free, you are most certainly not with the druids now. You must guard your magic with your life."

'Not with the druids,' I thought sadly to myself. 'But I am a druid. And definitely not with the rest of my kind. I don't belong here any more than Merlin does. How does he stand it?' I make a mental note to ask him when he returns. Whenever that is. A few days, he said. I press the dragon to my chest, feeling that it can't come soon enough.

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**Translation!**

**Fire dweller blood = aledfir buend dreor**

**Entrails - Intestines = innobas – gesenas**

**Running water = ea**

**Stop = allinnan  
**

**As always, thanks for reading, and I hope that you enjoyed!**

This chapter felt a bit slow for me, will make sure that the next chapter is more interesting!


	8. Lady of the River

**I'm taking this opportunity to thank all of the people who have reviewed/ favourited/ followed this story. It really is a massive encouragement!**

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I perched on a rock, letting my hands drag in the flowing river. It had been 4 days since Merlin left with the King, and I was bored. My days had been spent trailing around after Gaius on his morning rounds, or watching and helping as he made his medicines, telling me the properties and history of every ingredient, that particular medicine, and the circumstances under which it was discovered. He filled my head with the stories of physicians and magicians who were long dead, and talked me through any illness that he was currently treating. He talked a lot to me – most people did; just because I was younger, people assumed that I would forget, misunderstand, or that I wasn't really paying attention to them anyway.

On my second day, he had taken me to the court seamstress, and bought me much needed attire; a few simple dresses and a pair of small boots that I tried to like, for his sake. But I liked to feel the ground beneath my feet, not wool, however soft. I felt bad about him spending money on me, but when I confronted him he told me not to worry, and that he would get Merlin to reimburse him when he returned, whatever that meant.

After my first few days in Camelot, I began to grow restless. I couldn't see anything of the forest in the mazes of white streets, nothing of the druids in the busy, talkative people. I missed Cillian and Fallon, but most of all I missed Mordred. If he had seen me, as Merlin said, then why didn't he come back for me? Did he forget about me?

I begged Gaius to let me go outside of Camelot and into the dense forest, to the river, but at first he refused, saying that it was 'too dangerous' and that I could 'get lost'. I finally convinced him, wearing him down by assuring him that druid children were perfectly responsible. A part of me felt guilty for badgering him when he had done so much for me, so I started wearing my shoes without complaint, thinking insults towards the leather more fiercely than I had spoken them. He took me with him when he went to collect herbs and left me by the river. He made me promise that I wouldn't stray from the bank and I agreed, dully thinking that escape would be futile with him just in ear-shot.

I rolled up my pale blue sleeves and plunged my hands deeper into the clear, gurgling water. It felt so nice to be away from the noise and bustle of the city. I looked into the trees and pictured the druid camp. If I squinted, I could almost see Cillian and Fallon, talking and laughing. "Gone, everything is always gone," I mutter listlessly, yanking out a fistful of river weed and stuffing it into the small leather pouch that hung from around my neck.

I heard a loud splash next to me and I, startled, jumped upright, nearly falling in. A woman stood some distance away to my left, her dress hitched up and the river water reaching her knees. She was making infrequent splashes in the water, frowning with concentration. I shrugged of Gaius's warnings and picked my way along the riverbank stones towards her. "What are you doing?" I asked curiously and she splashed again, then growled in frustration.

"Fishing," She replied with a grimace, and I couldn't help but giggle.

"You're doing it wrong!" I exclaimed, and showed her how to keep her arms still in the water, then how to quickly flick her wrists upwards. I waded in, tying my dress like she had, ignoring the fact that a good portion of it was still submerged. After a minute or so I managed to successfully capture a large trout, before it wriggled free from my grasp and slithered down my front into the water, seemingly determined in getting me as wet as possible in the process. The woman laughed and I pouted slightly. "You aren't a fisherman," I observed, annoyed at her laughter.

"Indeed not," She conceded.

"Then why are you fishing?" She sat down on a large rock and shrugged slightly.

"Because I feel like I am wasting away. Stuck up on a mantelpiece like an ornament, even while he's away, and I had to get out."

"Who's away?"

"My husband."

I vaguely remembered Gaius telling me that people didn't like you asking them questions, but ignored him, figuring that if I was annoying her then she would just have to tell me.

"My brother's gone too." My tongue tripped slightly over the word 'brother', but at least it wasn't a question. She smiled faintly, staring at the same spot in the water.

"Where did you learn to fish?" She asked eventually. I studied her closely. Gaius had told me that Camelot had made peace with my people; surely I could tell her the truth.

"In the druid camp." I tilted my head back slightly and looked her in the eyes. I realised with a rush of pleasure that they were the same colour as mine. She raised her eyebrows.

"You're a druid?"

"Yes." After all, I was no longer a southerner, and definitely not about to become a child of Camelot. I had the druid symbol printed on my body. I lifted my head a notch higher as she looked at me curiously, as if I were challenging her.

"What brings you to Camelot?"

Ah. How could I explain this? I could just say that I had come to help kill the king. I looked up through the trees and could faintly make out the red Pendragon flag flapping on the highest turret.

"A different brother brought me here." Mordred had brought to Merlin, in a way. I missed Mordred, and that sprung another question to mind. I tried not to sound too insensitive when I asked, "Did your husband die?"

She looked surprised. "No, no he should be back soon."

"I don't know when mine will return," I comment gloomily, thinking of Mordred rather than Merlin. I still hadn't completely made my mind up about the latter. "What was your husband like?"

She thought for a moment. "Kind. Just, fair, brave. And most definitely worthy."

Worthy? What did that even mean?

"Worthy of his position," She added hastily, before my mouth hand chance to open. Position. This woman was a lady of position.

"Are you noble?" I was shocked; she had seemed so normal!

She laughed a little bitterly. "Something like that."

Maybe once she was noble? Not even I liked to ask if she had fallen from her position. Still, a noblewoman. I shouldn't have talked to her. Checking that the river reed was still in my pouch I started to wade back downstream, but she stood up quickly. "Don't go!" There was a note of sadness in the plea, and I stop in my tracks. She sighed and sat back down. "Or go. Who am I to order you about?"

I waded meekly back to her, keeping my head respectfully lowered.

"You don't have to do that."

I looked up and grinned. She was a noble woman, and she was treating me like an equal! I decided to take advantage of the situation and leapt onto her rock. She had her arms folded around her legs, with her chin resting on her knee. I racked my brains for a way to cheer her up. What had the druids done when I was upset? They used to tell me stories. I remembered resting on Fallon's lap, her arms tight around me as she whispered daring tales in my ear. I allowed myself to be treated like a child again. She would play with my hair, twisting it around her index finger until I drifted into sleep. I eyed this woman's thick brown curls.

"May I do your hair please?" I asked.

"It's been a long time since somebody asked me."

"Since you were little?"

She didn't reply and I presumed her silence to be assent. I scrambled behind her and started raking my fingers through her hair. It was so soft! Noblewoman truly did live in luxury. As I braided and twisted I recited the words of a poem that Fallon had taught me. The words cascaded like music and it was hard not to sing them too loudly. It was a tale about two dragons, one of fire, and the other, snow. By the time that I had finished the lengthy poem, her hair was finished. I peeped around her head to see if it had worked, and I caught a smile playing around her lips. I sighed, triumphant.

"Here, it's my turn now." She shuffled back and beckoned for me to sit in front of her. I hesitated.

"My hair is all dirty and knotted," I admitted, feeling my face grow hot.

"Then let me wash it for you?"

I consented and sat in front of her, my legs dangling into the river. She cupped water into her hand and gently worked her way through the knots and tangles. Her fingers were light and soft, so I assumed that she had had a great deal of practise. "Do you have any children?" I asked, staring at the forest in front of me and trying not to move my head.

"No. Perhaps one day."

I closed my eyes and listened to the sound of the forest. For a moment, I felt as if I could be back at home. This was Fallon behind me, brushing my hair, and that was Mordred calling my name... I opened my eyes and sighed. That was Gaius calling my name.

"I have to go," I said quickly, standing up and unhitching my dress, rushing over to where Gaius's voice was sounding from.

"Will I see you again?"

I turned around, thinking quickly. Gaius had told me that Monday morning was always when he or Merlin gathered the naturally growing ingredients. "I will be here the same time next week!" I called, running now. I hadn't realised that I had strayed so far from the point where Gaius left me. I turned a corner and spotted him in the distance, looking up and down the river.

"Gaius!" I bounded up to him. "I got loads of river weed! Thank you for letting me come!" I showed him the contents of the pouch, but he seemed to be preoccupied.

"You seem to be making a habit of getting wet," He commented dryly.

"Gaius, I met a lady," I told him, thinking that his scolding would simply have to wait. "She was fishing wrong, so I showed her how to do it properly. She brushed my hair!" He nodded absently, not really listening as I yammered on about my morning in the forest. If he did notice my renewed fervour or the pink in my cheeks her didn't say anything, but was silently grateful that my spirits were improving in time for Merlin's return.

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**This chapter felt sort of like a filler again, but I promise things will start to heat up soon.**

**And no prize for guessing who 'the woman' is. :P**

**Please review? It really would mean a lot. 3**


	9. Writings and Findings: Part One

**RIGHT - These next two chapters were originally written as one, but it was MAHOOSIVE, so I split it :P**

**And why am I uploading two chapters at once?**

**Because I am on a very late summer camp next week, and won't be able to upload until AT LEAST 3rd September. *sobs 'I'm sorry!' ***

**And after that, I'm starting 6th Form College, so updates might be a bit sparse.  
But I PROMISE I won't give up on this fic x**

**The next chapter part one...**

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I waited somewhat apprehensively in Gaius's work room. The bells to signal the return of Camelot's beloved King had chimed not one hour ago, and I knew Merlin to be with them. But my greeting him would arouse more suspicion than I had already caused, so I waited for him to return, seated on a small stool by the fire and watching my dress dry from this morning's adventure by the river. Gaius was behind me, now was his first opportunity to sort out the gatherings of this morning – as soon as we returned we were hailed by an alarmed knight and spent the rest of the day treating commoners and noblemen alike from the measles. My river weed was compressed and curled up into a small, labelled glass jar and placed on a shelf with similarly trapped plants. I swung my legs, bored, and then I had an idea. I remembered the River Lady, and remembered that my poem had cheered her up. I would write it out for her so that she could always be happy.

"Gaius?"

"Hmm?"

"Could I please have some paper and something to write with please?" I was flushed with the simple and real excitement of the child that I was.

"Your manners drastically improve when he want something," He commented, looking pleased all the same. He put down the jar of compressed lavender that he was holding. "You can write?"

I nodded. "I'm going to write a poem," I giggled.

He handed me from his desk a small feather quill, a tiny glass bottle filled with murky black ink and a generous length of parchment. I lay on my stomach in front of the fire, dipped the quill into the ink, and started to write.

"_This is a poem for-" _ I paused. What should I call her? Pretty lady? Lady with the purple dress? Lady by the River.

"_This is a poem for The Lady by the River._

Then, just underneath, I wrote the title.

"_The Two Dragons."_

I paused again, looking into the fire. It was very late now; when would Merlin come back? Outside ran a cool autumn night breeze, but in here it was so warm...

I awoke with a start. Someone had pushed a pillow under my head, and draped a thick, heavy blanket over me. The door clicked shut and I heard dragging footsteps on the stone floor, then a scrape of a chair. I focused on the glowing embers, straining my ears. A clunk of something on the table, followed by the sound of someone chewing.

"Thanks," Merlin whispered through a mouthful of food.

"How was your trip?" Gaius asked quietly.

One of them sighed. "Horrible," replied Merlin, and they both chuckled.

Silence, apart from the scraping of a spoon.

"How's she been?" Merlin asked, and I listened more intently, realising that they were talking about me.

"Fine. A little bored perhaps. Restless. She is a druid after all. They don't like to be restricted or tied down in any way. They are a travelling people. And Merlin, she IS your sister."

"How can you be sure?"

"I had a word with Sir Geoffrey of Monmouth, and he showed me the records. She comes from the far south, across the sea even. You know, she was never given a name, I had to look under 'Balinor' as none of the records for 'Anya' matched her description. Two children were listed below; you, and then 'Daughter of Kensa'. The records don't lie," He added quickly. "That old book is enchanted by the strongest magic there is."

"How on Earth did you get Geoffrey to show you his Book of Records?!"

"The same as always. I told him it was a matter of the utmost importance; that life and death hung in wait of the answer."

They both laughed again and I noted how much happier Gaius seemed now he was around Merlin. "He must love him a lot," I thought smiling, before I drifted back to sleep.

I awoke again to the same scene that I had fallen asleep to; Merlin and Gaius sitting at the small table eating and talking, except this time a pale light from the cloudy sky floated through the window. I quietly stood up and joined them, keeping the blanket wrapped around me for warmth. Bleary eyed I pulled up my little stool and plonked down on it, inhaling the warm air that arose from the porridge that Gaius had just pushed towards me. "Thanks Gaius," I muttered thickly through a large yawn, before plunging in my wooden spoon. "Good morning brother," I thought to him, and he smiled.

Gaius wisely departed, leaving with an "I'll leave you two to catch up." I was now unsure of what to say, of how to talk to him. If he were Mordred, what would I say? He seemed to have no such problem.

"What have you been getting up to?" He asked, smiling.

"Helping Gaius with his work..." I hadn't really done much else. Merlin leaned forward suddenly.

"Anya, I'm so sorry that I had to leave so suddenly."

I blinked, surprised. "But that wasn't your fault! Gaius told me, you're his man servant."

He frowned. "Oh."

I giggled, slightly nervously. "Do you want your dragon back?" I asked.

"You need it more than I do."

Looking into the blue eyes of my big brother, something snaps, and I'm telling him things that I hadn't even realised I was thinking, of how I missed Cillian and Fallon, how I worried for Mordred. He lets me ramble on and I don't stop. For some reason I'm talking about Balinor and how I don't know what he looked like, how I'm grateful to Gaius, how I'm scared that my magic will be discovered. And then, before I could change my mind, I added, "I want to get to know you."

"Then let's introduce ourselves. Hello! My name's Merlin. What's your name?"

"Anya," I beam, taking his outstretched hand and shaking it, trying to think of a suitable question. "What's your favourite colour?"

He chuckles, and then ponders the answer for a while. "Red," He decides finally.

"I like yellow."

We sat in silence for a while, both burning with curiosity, but both strangely shy with each other. Merlin finally gestured to the sheet of parchment that was still in front of the fire, along with the now lidded ink and the quill. "What are you writing?"

"A poem I learnt from the druids, about two dragons."

"Tell me more?"

"Well... there is a really old king of Camelot and his warlock servant finds two dragons fighting under the castle... The warlock has your name."

"Merlin?

"No, Emrys."

He dropped his spoon in surprise and I faltered. "I thought it spoke about a different Emrys," I whispered hushly.

"How many Emrys's do you know?!"

"But it's a prophecy!" We looked at each other, and I was shocked. I had grown up hearing these prophecies as songs and poems, and was now in a position where I could give away all of the druid's secrets – the meaning behind their foresight.

"Will you tell me the poem?" He looked almost eager, but wary at the same time, as if he hadn't really meant to ask aloud. I reluctantly shook my head.

"Prophecies must remain hidden to whom they concern," I quoted Cillian, who had sternly told me that after hearing me casually singing about the fate of our once and future king.

"Then don't write it down," Merlin said immediately. "I won't be able to resist and..." He tailed off and shuddered.

"I was writing it out for a friend," I excused meekly, getting up to grab the parchment, quill and ink.

"Oh? What friend is this?" He sounded pleased.

"I met her by the river when we went to get ingredients. I'm meeting her again there."

Merlin looked longingly at the parchment and sighed. "Don't let me read it, promise me. It will do no good – prophecies never do."

"I won't." I glared at him, just to back up my statement, and then slowly wrote out the first line, ignoring the ink splatters from where I'd fallen asleep.

_ "The mage Emrys, who you know so well  
Many a yarn have you heard tell.  
An urgent letter from the King was sent  
An order for his wisdom to be lent."_

"I have to go to work," Merlin announced, running a hand through his short black hair and pulling open the door. "He's going to kill me," He muttered to himself, and I hoped that he didn't mean it.

"Be safe!" I cried uncertainly.

"I will," He replied as he shut the door behind him, a smile on his face.

The rest of the week followed pretty much the same pattern as my previous days in Camelot. I would see Merlin in the early morning and occasionally afternoon, but would be asleep by the time he returned at night. We were getting used to the notion of each other; drip feeding our personalities so that it wasn't as overwhelming as it could have been. It gave us time to acclimatise; to get used to each other.

I slept by the fire, much to Gaius's disapproval. He didn't seem to deem it a suitable space for a permanent bed. I silently told myself that Mordred would be coming any time soon, so he needn't worry. My days were filled helping out; making medicines by morning and delivering them in the afternoon when Gaius made his rounds. The late afternoon was reserved for house-calls, or checking up on the patients in the infirmary. Occasionally we would get an urgent request that would throw our routine up in the air, but in the six days that followed that only happened twice. I was fetching, carrying, reading, pouring, cooking, stirring and talking, so that by the time we had finally returned for our evening meal I had just enough energy to write a few lines of the poem before I fell asleep by the warm fire. On Sunday night I finished it, rolled it up and tied it with a mall length of string that I had found lurking on the floor underneath one of the work tables. I fell asleep with it in my hand, and was woken before dawn by Merlin, gently shaking my shoulders and hissing my name.

"Anya. Anya. Anya!"

I rubbed my eyes sleepily, trying to see in the near pitch black. Because of the silvery moonlight, I could just about decipher Merlin's face from the dark.

"You wanted to come gathering today, didn't you? Well, Moonlace has to be gathered by the light of the full moon, so we have to go before dawn."

He busied himself by checking the contents of his leather bag, his back turned towards me as I pulled on my dark blue dress.

"Okay," I whispered over Gaius's snores. Merlin noticed my bare feet.

"Do you want to put your shoes on?" He asked doubtfully.

"No," I replied. Gaius was asleep, so I was going to take advantage of that. I grabbed the parchment and followed Merlin into the dark passageway, closing the door behind me.

The forest was not as dark as I thought it would be, and the silvery lit trees reminded me of the camp. Knowing that the River Lady wouldn't be there this early I went with Merlin to gather the Moonlace. It grew moss-like on top of a huge jagged rock, and he clambered up and scooped some off with a small sickle, muttering a spell as he did so. The Moonlace in his hand glowed silver and when he passed a sprig to me I gazed at it in awe.

"Magic increases the potency," Merlin explained with a half smile, roughly stuffing it into one of the many pockets on his bag. I scowled at his treatment of the beautiful plant, but in the dark it went unnoticed by him.

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**Thanks for reading :)**

**Please tell me about any wild OOCness and I will try to improve x**


	10. Writings and Findings: Part Two

**The next chapter part two...**

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As we started the trek back to Camelot the sun rose, almost hesitantly. I never grew tired of watching the dawn, watching the midnight blue be painted with swirls of gold, pink and grey. The feeble light of dawn filtered in through the leafy canopy above our heads. And we arrived, at last, to the river, and I asked Merlin if I could wait here while he collected the rest. He had every other Monday morning off work and left me without a word. I sat until he was out of sight, and then hastily walked upstream to the place that we had met last. To my great surprise she was there already. She stood in the water again her tight red dress again hitched up to her knees. Remembering her expression to be one of sheer concentration, I stayed in the shadows as she swiftly plucked up a minnow. Minnows were_ tiny_, and as she looked at it triumphantly I felt impressed. She tossed it back with a shake of her brown curls, laughing. I clapped my hands and made myself known. She saw me and smiled.

"You were true to your word," She grinned, and I nodded enthusiastically. She seemed to be in a far lighter mood than last time.

"Did your husband return?" I guessed.

"Yes, he did. And did your brother?"

"The day that I met you. But he was working, so I had to wait 'till later to see him."

She frowned slightly. "Who is your brother?"

I thought of Mordred, then I thought of Merlin.

"My first brother is a druid, but he is lost. I don't know where he is." I saw pity in her expression, so I rapidly continued. "My real brother lives in Camelot. For now, I live with him." I didn't want her pity; I had always found it embarrassing. As if I were being looked down on. That's what Mordred said, anyway. 'I don't want your pity.' And then he glared at them with his eyes icy and they fled. I was the only one who he let sympathise. He would return home with a swollen eye after some incident or another, and only I was allowed to pester him to get it seen to. "Put some paste on it," I urged encouragingly, thrusting the fouls smelling pot under his nose and giggling at him wrinkling his nose.

"And he just let's you wander around the forest on your own?"

I laughed. "No." Then I realised she was talking about Merlin. "I mean yes. Yes. Sort of. He's collecting herbs for Gaius."

I realised my mistake quickly and grimaced.

"Gaius?" She repeated sharply, sitting down on her stone.

I decided to feign innocence. I was not magical. My brother wasn't the son of a dragon lord. "Yes, do you know him?" I asked.

"What's your brother's name?"

I opened my mouth to tell her to answer my question first, then remembered that she was nobility. I frowned. Something in her voice made me wary of telling her. But then I reminded myself that she wasn't likely to know him. He was only a lowly servant in the castle, and last time I checked nobility didn't exactly get to know their servants back story, likes, dislikes etc.

"Merlin," I replied guardedly, and her sharp intake of breath didn't escape my notice. Then she noticed me frowning and smiled.

"Sorry," She apologised clearly then shuffled back on her rock. "I never finished doing her hair."

I narrowed my eyes but obliged all the same, sitting down before I remembered the scroll that I still clutched.

"I did this for you." I passed it behind me, listening intently as she unrolled it and laughed. "The Lady by the River?!"

I shrugged as she scanned the text. "It's beautiful, thank you," She said softly. I grinned. I had done something good and was pleased with her reaction.

"I'm glad you returned," I acknowledged shyly, and then she did something that surprised the both of us. She hugged me. With a start, I thought back to the last time I had been hugged. Fallon, just before I had faked sleep and ran after Mordred. I missed her warm hold and chocked back a sob. This woman had the same warmth in her, and while I didn't know the reason behind it, I was glad of it, and touched.

"I don't know any other girls," I admitted, picturing asking Gaius for a hug and giggling slightly.

"No other girls know me." She seemed far away, and a little sad again. "And I just feel so useless. And I can only talk to you, a mere child. I don't even know you, but can talk because you don't know me either."

I got the feeling that she didn't really mean to insult me.

"Gwen!"

We both jumped and looked downstream to see Merlin standing there, his mouth open and his eyes wide.

"That's my brother," I told her. She didn't seem to hear what I said and she rose slowly, quickly letting her dress fall back down to around her ankles. I noticed that she too was without shoes, and wondered why. Maybe she just didn't like wearing them, or something. I watched the two adults apprehensively. They both had guilt written in their faces, and seemed to be having a silent conversation, mouthing words and moving their eyebrows. I sighed, bewildered. "Umm," I interrupted, unsure of what I should do and disliking being in the unknown.

"Has she told you?" Merlin asked quietly, and before I could reply Gwen nodded. "How long have you-?"

"Just now."

"I myself have known for little over a week."

I blinked, befuddled. Why didn't adults ever make any sense?

"Anya, can I talk to Gwen for a bit please?"

"So her name IS Gwen." I faltered, noticing his serious expression, apologised, and made my way upstream. A fair distance away I stopped and looked back. They were standing close together and talking very rapidly. I watched concerned, but relaxed as their laughter drifted towards me. Gwen noticed me looking and sent me a reassuring smile, that I was not completely convinced by. She patted Merlin on the arm and he walked over to me, a lopsided grin plastered on his face.

"What was that about?" I asked quickly, and was pleased to get a reply.

"Gwen wanted to know if you really were my sister, and why she hadn't met you before. I told her that we met by chance, and that when I left you were still recovering. I thought she'd be angry, but... She wasn't! She just laughed and said that she was pleased I was telling her the truth now." He looked so relived, and walked with a spring in his step.

"But you haven't told her that we have magic...?"

He looked slightly disheartened. "No. It's too risky."

"Will she be there next week?" I forgot to ask her before I left.

"Oh, yes. Definitely! But you surprised her today."

Mystified, I followed him back to Camelot. He was reluctant to say any more on the matter and I didn't press him, in fear of somehow angering him. So far he had been pleasant and kind; and I was keen for it to remain that way. He led me to Gaius's door and left the herbs with me before hurrying of to work. I sighed, suddenly ravenous, and pushed open the heavy wooden door. Gaius was in the middle of heating a viscous liquid, but I spotted a small pot of porridge steaming over the hearth and my stomach growled.

"Help yourself," He suggested kindly as I plonked the herb bags on the table next to him.

I collected a bowl and spoon from a hook above the hearth and heaped a generous portion into the bowl. I cupped it close to me, grateful for the heat. Summer had ended abruptly and winter was fast approaching.

The next few days passed as they had been doing ever since I arrived in Camelot. We cooked, we brewed, we delivered, he healed and he taught me. However mundane I may have viewed my routine, I was thrilled when Gaius deemed me capable enough to deliver the remedies by myself through the whole Castle, and even some of the upper town. It was a Thursday afternoon when I slipped into the castle with a small vial of the thick green paste that induced sleep. It was for the queen and my chest puffed with the thought of my importance. Delivering to royalty, whatever next?

By this point I knew my way around pretty well, and relished the chance of an adventure, however slight. Gaius was right – I was a druid, and I yearned for something to do. He made sure that I was kept busy at nearly every waking moment so that in my boredom I didn't do something too rash or wild.

With building excitement I climbed up the winding, narrow servant staircase. I had met the King once before, of course, but I was still stunned and terrified at the time, so I didn't really savour the moment. I yet to catch a glimpse of the Queen, but the rumours encircling her were extraordinary, tales of her astounding beauty and immeasurable generosity and kindness. I wanted to see her to decide from myself. Would she have my hair? Father's eyes? It was strange to think that I could have something in common with the Queen of Camelot.

I saw the door that led to her chambers and started to get a bit nervous. What if she actually was directly behind that door? What would I say? I remembered the weight of my magic, and the fact that it was still outlawed. Fortunately, after a tentative knock and a quick word with the two guards who towered over me, I realised that nobody was inside. I looked around the plush, well furnished quarters wondering where I should put the vial of paste. The main feature of this room was a large four poster bed complete with floaty, gossamer curtains. My gaze fell on an ornate dressing table with a large, oval mirror, and decided to put it there, assuming that she would definitely notice it there. I study my reflection, not being able to remember if I had ever seen a mirror so large, or clean. I would never get used to having brown eyes. I place the vial carefully on the wooden dresser and look at the other items that littered the dressing table surface. A small, silver hairbrush, several breathtakingly beautiful necklaces and... a length of parchment tied up with a frayed, old piece of string. With a thudding heart I picked up the scroll.

_No way..._

Gwen. Gwen. Guinevere. I slid the string off and immediately recognise my loopy handwriting. Those blots of ink were very familiar after a week of looking at them. Gwen was Guinevere. No. Impossible. Perhaps Gwen had given it to the Queen for some reason? I needed to make sure somehow.

"Hey, that's long enough!" One of the guards called and my blood turned cold. A moment of fumbling and the parchment was exactly as I had found it. I tried not to run past the guards, but after turning the corner I fled, my mind blurred. I didn't know who Gwen was, and why the Queen of all Camelot had my scruffily written poem in her possession. But I was determined to find out.

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**Just gone and lost my rough story outline from this point onwards D: **

**So any suggestions and I might include them :)**

**Please review?**

**See you in a week or so - mimie-puddleduck**


	11. Time is Fleeting

**Hello again readers! New chapter - Mordred POV. My little treat ;)**

**Enjoy!**

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The travel south to Camelot was quite a lengthy journey, needing to be taken by foot as he hadn't visited there for so long and could barely remember what it looked like. Leaving the bitter cold behind made his flesh feel oddly light, but he still buried himself in his furs and moved swiftly onwards, hating the texture of the light, fluttering air on his skin. As he persevered, the trees gradually grew less sparsely and the days brightened. He had stolen a map in one of the taverns on his route and would take it out and stare at Camelot longingly. Not long now...

It was a particularly fine day when he saw Camelot again in the first time for he didn't know how long. The birds chirped in the trees and he slowed his place to almost a pleasant, care-free stroll. He had all the time in the world, Anya wasn't going anywhere. She was waiting for him. He could see the white city, standing out starkly against the brilliant blue sky. He decided to start searching for Anya in the courtyard where he had last seen her, and was confident that he would soon pick up on the distinctive feel and taste of her magic. It was as he made his way through the lower town that he remembered that magic was no longer outlawed.

"Is that so?" He mused, and effortlessly created a trail of sparks that flitted between his fingers, bright and red, curious to see the general reaction. A few people took double takes, or tried to avoid his gaze, their lips pursed, but most tried their hardest to ignore him. He sniggered quietly before continuing onwards. Upwards. Towards Anya.

As he finally turned into the courtyard, he winced slightly as the painful memory hurtled back towards him. It looked exactly as he remembered it, but seemed oddly empty without a bloodied body lying on the floor. He looked around, unsure of where to go next, when he heard a loud volley of laughter and cheering, issuing from a short distance away. It grabbed his attention and he shrugged. Why not? He was in no hurry. And as he strained his senses he could feel someone there using magic. A magic that was slightly mellow around the edges and tasted of honey. Slightly aged and far more controlled, but there was no doubt about it.

_It's her._

He strode quickly down a few narrow and winding streets, his heart pounding slightly aggressively, following the magic, before the buildings abruptly ended. "A tournament?" He muttered, looking down at the sea of people crammed into the red and yellow stands. In the blink of an eye he was there, amongst the cheering, the merry and mundane people. Anya was here, he could sense it. A hush fell upon the crowd as the competitors assembled in a rectangle on the sandy arena, and all eyes swivelled to the royal box as the king arose and began to address his warriors. Mordred studied him intently. He was still in the prime of his life, but he had greatly changed since Mordred had last seen him. There was something more regal in his posture, his expression. His eyes were harder, with crow's feet slightly at the edges. His voice was more firm. So this was the king who had lifted the ban on magic. It would have been a mistake to aid Morgana in his death.

The queen sat to his left, a picture in a sweeping purple dress. Royalty suited the serving maid. And surely that was her rosy cheeked son on the queen's left...

Mordred felt his eyes widen and time seemed to slow. A young woman sat with the young prince on her lap, entertaining him by conjuring a small stream of golden bubbles and watching, amused, as he popped them, blinking as they burst. The feel of her magic jolted Mordred. Impossible. It was her. But it couldn't be.

"Look at her eyes," He muttered under his breath as he moved to get a closer look, weaving through the crowd. Her hair was long and golden, her dress intricate and white. Mordred snorted. There was no way that was Anya. This girl, who was nearing woman hood, his Anya? No. Then, their eyes locked, and his shoulders sagged. Her eyes were a deep, rich brown, nothing like the golden irises he remembered. Her mouth dropped open and Mordred frowned. If not Anya, then who was she? Why did she have the same feel to her magic as Anya did?

"Mordred?" That voice in her head; that was hers. He thought he would never hear it again. But was it it woman speaking? Or was Anya somewhere else? The woman handed the child to his mother and climbed out of the back of the box, holding her skirts up as she glided down the steps. Mordred appeared beside her and she jumped a little. She was breathing heavily. "Who are you?" Mordred asked sharply.

"Mordred, it's me." Her brown eyes held a hint of accusation.

"But... you can't be. Anya is a child." Mordred was completely bewildered.

"I was. I grew up."

"What happened?!"

She laughed, slightly bitterly. "I wasn't dead. You left me and Merlin healed me."

"But you're so old!"

"I'm fifteen, I'm hardly in my dotage." She looked up at him evenly. "You left me."

"I thought you dead," Mordred explained hastily.

"You've been eight years. You just disappeared. Cillian, Fallon, none of them knew where you went."

"What? You've seen Cillian and Fallon? Then why are you still in Camelot?" This conversation didn't make any sense, and Mordred was getting more confused, and more angry. Eight years of his life he had wasted, mourning someone who lived and breathed before him. Her reply shocked him even more.

"Merlin is my brother."

Well. That was unexpected. "I thought that I was your brother," He spat. "Yet you didn't try to find me, or let me know-"

"Tried to find you?" She was incredulous. "Mordred, I was seven when you left me. I did try, I never gave up, but for all I knew, Morgana had killed you! Where was I supposed to start looking?!"

"It's nice to see that you have so much faith in me. I was the one who killed HER, and it was easy. I broke her down, tortured her, then ripped her apart, inch by painful inch, until she bled and begged for the end."

Anya had a tear tracing down her cheek. "I've wanted this day to arrive for years, but you've changed." Mordred had a sinking feeling inside of him. This wasn't how this was supposed to go. She was supposed to cry out his name in delight and leap into his arms, not stand here with fearful eyes and an angry mouth.

"Come with me?" The words escaped his lips before he had even registered the thought. He regretted it instantly. "Don't reply," He instructed curtly as she opened her mouth.

"Mordred, I missed you, I really did, and you've no idea how good it is to see you again, but Merlin-"

"I said don't!" He buried his face further into his fur cloak. This was all Merlin's fault. Was everybody out to get him? Merlin had stolen his place; Anya had the audacity to call him the brother directly in front of Mordred! Mordred moved back to the forest and sank to the floor, his blood boiling. It was good to have that nearly tangible anger inside of him again. It made him feel as powerful as he was, if not stronger. How was he to know that when Anya had looked into his gaunt face and sickly pale skin she couldn't see her Mordred in his dead eyes? How was he to know that she had desperately tried? How was he to know that the bitter, unshaven, dirty shell of a man that he now was had broken her heart?

Mordred slunk back into the shadowy forest, with one thought strong in his mind. They would pay. They would all pay.

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**Phew! That seemed a really heavy chapter for some reason.**

**Thankyou to those who have followed/ favourited this, new and old. It means a lot.**

**Please review? I still need a few hints about the future of this story, so any suggestions are more than welcome :)**


	12. A Game

**I don't have any excuses for the lateness of this.**

**Sorry for any mistakes, this was pretty hastily written.  
Will make the next chapter more exciting and better written. Pinky promise ^.^**

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I didn't have a clue what I should do. It was Sunday night and I was very nervous about tomorrow. Would I even go to her? I didn't have to, but she was friends with Merlin, so Merlin might ask me why I didn't go. That was a thought, actually. Merlin was friends with Gwen, so she couldn't possibly be queen. I laughed a little and relaxed slightly. Now I just had to ask Gwen why she had given it to the queen, which was a far less daunting task. Besides, I had other thoughts and worries to occupy my time, and it was a pressing matter. Gaius and Merlin had been trying to keep it from me, but I knew. I couldn't sleep on the floor by the fire for much longer. I needed to find somewhere permanent in Camelot, or I would be taken back to Cillian and Fallon. A fortnight ago, this thought would make me eager, but now I wasn't sure whether to choose Merlin or resume my old life with the druids. Cillian and Fallon where like the father I'd never had and the mother I barely remembered. But then Merlin was different altogether. We were connected by blood, and he was my brother. Mordred was off somewhere, and worry still clenched my stomach, so Merlin was the next best thing. He was always so cheerful and smiley, and he never wore Mordred's dark scowl. He seemed honest and open, and appeared to genuinely want me to stay in Camelot. I'm not sure how, but he accepted me with far more ease than I accepted him. And I hated to admit it, but the book of magic that he owned would have a strong bearing on my decision. There was so much in there – spells that Mordred wouldn't dream teaching me, but that Merlin might be persuaded to. And, of course, Gwen. I supposed that I would miss her, but if she did turn out to be queen, would I ever view her in the same light again?

With so much on my mind, it wasn't surprising that I struggled to sleep that night. I lay awake on the floor that I was soon to vacate, on top of a thin blanket with a thicker draped over me. The fire was dying, so by the time Merlin was awake for work I had only a few hours of fitful sleep behind me. I stayed on the floor with my eyes closed until he had shut the door behind him.

I procrastinated that morning until Gaius was nearly at his wits end, then when I 'accidentally' knocked over a large crate of lamb eyes and he started to raise his voice rapidly I decided that I had pushed him to his limit and could no longer delay the inevitable. I would have to face Gwen. I meekly followed Gaius down to the forest, burying my face guiltily in my new, thick, red scarf.

Gaius gruffly left me by the river and there in solemnly remained. However, when he handed me a jar for water weed there was a slight smile on his face, and I knew that I was forgiven. My stomach turned as I waited for Gwen to arrive. She had to come today. She had to.

"Or maybe," whispered a small voice in my head, "she won't come, and you won't have to face her."

No. I needed to find out why the queen had my poem, or I might very well explode with anticipation and nerves.

"Anya?"

I suddenly looked up and there she was, hurrying towards me with her hair neatly pinned back and trailing pearls dangling from her ears. Her red dress had a silken sheen to it and was embroidered with golden thread. My heart clenched at the sight of her. If she wasn't the queen, then call me Gaius. I forced my mouth into a wide smile. She reached me, gasping for breath.

"I'm late, sorry, I couldn't get away," she panted, pressing her hands on her stomach and breathing in deeply. I said nothing, not wanting to open my mouth lest the questions came tumbling out. She frowned slightly at me.

"Are you well?" She asked, puzzled, and in response I nodded.

"I have a game we can play," I announced, improvising rapidly.

She smiled. "What manner of game?"

I stood and picked my way along the river. "A game," I said slowly, "that I played with the druids."

"Tell me more," She laughed, and I spun abruptly on my heel.

"It will prove to the world that our friendship is true. We trade a single question and we answer honestly. Are you willing to play?" I thrust out my hand and she shook it with mock solemnity.

"I am willing," She replied, stifling a giggle.

"I go first, because I'm the youngest." I smirked. Right. Here it was. The moment I'd been dreading. And here she was, standing there, pretty and blissfully unaware of my devious intent.

"Are you-" I began, then unease suddenly gushed upon me. She blinked.

"Am I...?"

I closed my eyes and drew in a deep breath. Perhaps this was a bad idea. "The Queen."

I opened my eyes warily, and then saw her expression. Hurt, but mostly surprise, all on one face. I put my head in my hands, flooded with guilt. "I'm sorry," I whispered. She had trusted me to not ask, to not be nosey and to trust her. I'd let her down.

There was silence, apart from the trees rustling and the gurgling stream. "No," Gwen said firmly, and somewhat resignedly. "I am sorry. I shouldn't have kept the truth from you. I am Queen Guinevere of Camelot, and my husband is King Arthur."

"Wow." I shut my mouth quickly, hardly believing that I'd just said 'wow'. Out of all the caring responses. Besides, I think that deep down I already knew who she was. It wasn't a surprise, really."Does that matter to you? Are you still my friend?"

"Yes!" She exclaimed. "You know, some people think that with being Queen I have it all, and I AM fortunate enough to live in luxury, but the crux of the matter is that by becoming Queen, I gave up my freedom. Now it's all meetings and councils and flitting about the place dressed up and looking pretty! I don't regret marrying him; I loved him and I still do, but for once I would like someone to recognise me for who I am!" She looked as if she was on the verge of tears, and she wearily sat down. I felt more guilty than ever. She was still the same person, still my friend. Her title didn't matter, not really. I apologised quietly, ashamed and with the utmost sincerity.

"So." Gwen eventually smiled through bleary eyes. "My turn."

I gaped at her, at her ability to drastically change the topic. "You did promise," She pressed. "So this is my question. Are you scared?"

"What?" Where on earth did that come from?

She began tentatively. "Well...How about Morgana? Are you recovered, are you scared of her?"

I was thunderstruck. "How did...?"

"I know that you are the girl that was wounded by her? It's my job to know." She smiled faintly.

"I'm not worried about Morgana," I lied. What could I say? I couldn't mention Mordred, I couldn't mention magic. "I'm worried about... about... my bed. Because I don't have one."

"You don't have a bed?" She raised her eyebrows slightly.

"So Gaius is going to have to send me away."

"You need a bed?"

"Not just a bed, somewhere to live. If I have to, I'll leave my brother and return to the druids. I don't want to, but they've been so good to me. I can't ask for more." There. Spilled. It was sort of a relief, actually. Facing up to the facts and looking them in the eye. Then I noticed Gwen's smirk. She genuinely looked pleased at something. And as she stood, looked me in the eye, and absently fiddled with her golden necklace, I could guess why. Being Queen had its perks, I was sure.

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**Thanks for putting up with me 3**

**Will try and get the next installment out more quickly.**

**Feel free to review!**


	13. Introductions and Reunions

**Okay, I don't normally do this, but for you, _Ana_, I will make an exception. **

_**That was the nicest review I have ever recieved! Tears of JOY, I tell you!**_  
_**It really boosted my confidence to continue with this, so thankyou! Really. xx**_

**You know what? EVERY review makes me happy. :D  
So here's to you.**

**Enjoy, you lot! :)**

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The castle was vast and impressive, and the room that I slept in was no exception. It was a strange feeling, waking up in the same building as the king. But I supposed that Gaius sort of lived in the castle as well, just on the very edge of the building, where servants and luxuries were more infrequent. I didn't know what Gwen had said to the king, but the time for an introduction arrived. Gwen put me in a dress designed especially for me and marched me to the hall, her hands on my shoulders. The doors clanged open, and I wondered how on earth I had ended up in that situation. Being introduced to the king by the queen, who, incidentally, was my friend. However, I soon spotted Merlin, standing beside the king, and I relaxed, my features naturally lifting into a smile. I smoothed down my pretty blue dress and glanced up at Gwen for reassurance.

"Go on," She smiled encouragingly, and I took a tentative step or two towards my king.

"So," King Arthur began. "I've heard a great deal about you, Anya."

I bowed my head, just as Gwen had instructed me to, and then looked up again. We appraised each other for several long moments. "I'm glad to see that you've recovered from Morgana's attack," He announced, shooting a frown at Merlin's direction. Oh, that's right. Merlin had blamed my injuries on raiders, or something like that.

"Thank you, Sire," I smiled nervously.

"You know, I still can't fathom why Morgana would go after you. She had no quarrel with you. You're just a girl." He leant back in his throne and frowned. I shrugged politely. Eventually, he sat upright again, and looked directly into Gwen's eyes.

"If it makes you happy. And if she wants to stay."

"Oh, Arthur. Thank you!" Gwen rushed over and kissed his chin, and then his mouth, tenderly. I wasn't altogether sure what was going on, they seemed to me to be speaking in riddles, so I pulled a face at their exchange of affection and Merlin suppressed a laugh.

"Just remember, she's somebody's daughter," Arthur whispered into her ear, and her smile faded slightly. That didn't go unnoticed by either Merlin or I, so I went to stand by my brother.

"So," I began quietly, wincing as they started to kiss again, oblivious to their surroundings. "Does the king know that you're my brother?" I whispered. Merlin shrugged.

"I don't know." A smile played around his lips," You should ask him. Not just now," He added as I opened my mouth, then closed it. They showed no sign of relenting. Merlin looked on with a vague sense of boredom, and with a nod, the guards hastily went out of the room. Merlin ushered me out in front of him, and closed the big double doors behind us, locking them with a golden glance.

"Go to Gaius," Merlin laughed, sending me off down the corridor. I enjoyed the way that my dress floated out behind me, caught in the cool autumn breeze. I didn't mind the cold much, not really. In my two weeks of living at the castle, I had been offered all sorts of fur coverings, but had politely declined. Gwen had already given me so much, and I still had the clothes that Gaius had kindly bought me.

My head was in the clouds, I was flying in the sky. I had a room to sleep in, Merlin, Gwen, and Gaius to look after me. I loved helping out Gaius with his work, and I loved having Merlin as a big brother. I came out of the soft stone passageway and into the courtyard, being greeted by the chattering and bustling crowds. I jumped down the steps one at a time, my soft shoes slapping the surface. I had finally relented on that point, after much thick and heavy persuasion by both Gaius and Gwen. One, two, three, four, five, six-

"Anya!" Shocked. Horrified. Frantic, possibly. I looked up, startled. The sound chilled my blood, and I reached out for my magic. It was there, of course, and I felt it curl around my fingers. I scanned the courtyard, and my jaw dropped in surprise. My voice caught in my throat, so instead a bubble of laughter erupted from my lips.

_I don't believe it._

The relief on his face was practically tangible as he hurried over to the bottom of the steps, where he stopped, looking up at me. He was absolutely exhausted, and the lower half of his face was covered in stubble.

_Fallon hates stubble on him._

His worn green cloak was splattered with dried mud. He studied me with evident, tired, glad surprise.

"You're eyes," He cleared his throat.

"I know," I replied, finding my voice at last. He shrugged, making an odd sort of flapping motion with his arms.

"Oh!" I smiled, and then jumped up into his arms.

He buried his face in my hair, muttering: "It is you? Your eyes... I'm sorry Anya. I lost you, I let you go. Forgive me, my daughter."

Suddenly, I too was overcome with emotion, raw and powerful. I started to cry, months of doubt, fear, hidden loneliness finally breaking free from within me. "I thought you'd never come," I wept, my voice muffled into his shoulder. Cillian, however, didn't forget himself in the way that I did. He broke away, looking about him furtively. "Somewhere more private."

I led him down a series of narrow alleys and passages.

_I can't believe it._

"Fallon has been worried sick," He said, indicating for us  
to stop. He had a massive grin on his face. He sat down on a large wooden crate. "No sign of you for half a year, Mordred never came back. So, Anya, what happened? Your eyes..."

I sat down on his lap. Mordred. Seeing Cillian had renewed the loss. I was unsure of what I should say, so I cast my mind back, to the forest that night. "Morgana took me with her to Camelot. She wanted me to help her kill the king, I don't know how. But..." I placed my hands on my chest and stomach. "She hurt me. I don't know why, but she did. It hurt. I fell to the ground and I fell asleep."

I stopped abruptly for two reasons. Firstly, I wasn't sure how to tell him about Merlin. Secondly, Cillian was quivering, trembling. His smile had rapidly fizzled away. I looked up to see tears in his dark eyes.

"Where is Morgana now?" He asked between gritted teeth.

"Mordred took her, I don't know where."

"Mordred was here? You saw him?" His tone of voice changed drastically, into something akin to anger.

"No, I didn't see him. He came after I was asleep." I sighed, brushing away the barriers in my mind before adding: "Merlin told me about him."

"Merlin? What do you know of Merlin? Did he heal you, did he change your eyes, did he look after you?" Cillian stood up and I scrambled to my feet.

"Yes. And Gaius."

_He found me! Cillian found me!_

"I must thank them," He muttered. "But, before I ask any more, we need to get you home, Fallon will be so happy to see you. It shouldn't take too long, there are horses waiting in the outskirts..." He seemed to be talking more to himself and I looked blankly up at him. Leaving? Already? I had almost given up hope of Cillian, of anyone, finding me, it really was so good to see him again after all this time. My thoughts fleetingly fell upon Merlin, Gwen, Gaius. My real brother against my adoptive parents. I looked up at Cillian's haggard face, and a rush of joy built up in my stomach. He had been my father for two years. He had spent I didn't know how long looking for me. He knew me; he was there when I first held an instrument to my lips, watching me learn to read, teaching me druid lore. He understood my magic and readily accepted me, something that Gwen could never do. I had forgotten who I really was. I would miss Gwen, yes, and I would miss Merlin most of all. But the son and daughter of Balinor would meet again, I was sure.

I wrapped my arms tightly around Cillian's legs. Fallon was waiting. She was my mother, she was worried. I would go to her. I was so excited!

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**Note - Absolutely NOT finished! **  
**I mean, are the people she is leaving REALLY going to take this lying down? **

**Feel free to review. **  
**Or not. **

**:)**


	14. Ninth Night

**So sorry for the long wait - I hope it lives up to your expectations! :)**

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The brightly coloured tents flapped in the wind, akin to flags, to welcome me home. Cillian halted the horse and helped me to dismount. After a day of hard riding I was hungry and tired, and couldn't help but think longingly of Gaius's cooking that I had left behind.

No. I had made my choice. I was staying with the druids. Don't think about Camelot.

Before I knew what was happening I was being engulfed in black wool and Fallon was crying and laughing. Somebody sang. The first night passed in a blur of activity and sensation. Sitting under the moonlight around the fire, inhaling the scent of the dye that renewed the markings on my ankles and wrists. My shoes were cast off and my floaty dress replaced with warmer, thicker clothes. The food in my stomach felt light – I felt more agile no longer cumbered with heavy stews and porridges. I saw people using magic. I watched the flames grow higher, the heat stinging my cheeks, the fire moving in patterns as they sang and danced. I caught some of the words as they floated on the breeze. A red dragon doing battle with a white, deep underground. Tears pricked my eyes and I leaned against Fallon, who noticed my tears and mistook them for happiness. She hugged me and murmured soothing sentences. "It's okay; we won't let them take you." Who she meant by 'them', I didn't know. Morgana perhaps. Well, she was far away. Dead, hopefully.

The morning was cold and fresh, the light dancing on every wisp of air. It all felt so tantalisingly solid. I was at the tent, back at the druid camp, back with Cillian and Fallon.

Away from Gwen, Gaius.

Where I'm free to use magic.

Away from Merlin, your own brother.

That very morning it was decided that my lessons in magic should be resumed. I was older now, and by their eyes the official age of an apprentice. After a small breakfast I knelt at the feet of the three elders, who stood in their flowing robes. One for wisdom, and learning. He had no magical abilities to speak of, yet was old, having seen many turns of the sun. He was Elias. The other, stood for magic. She knew enchantments and spells that others could only dream of. Enchanted objects were her speciality. She was one with her ability and powerful, more so than most anyway. She went by the name Cara. The last and youngest of the three was the seer. His eyes and hair were prematurely flecked with grey, and his posture was strong. His name was Anenias. All three were held in deep respect, but I'd never really seen much of them before. I had to meet them in a glade, where they stood in a row. I tried not to flinch as crows flitted out from the folds of Cara's robes. Rumour had it that those robes were enchanted to give the wearer flight. I had yet to see that.

The matter was discussed with minimal words, only Anenias spoke to me. "Welcome back to us, daughter of Balinor." He paused, indicating that I should speak.

"Thank you, High Elder Anenias."

He swiftly continued. "It has been decided that you are too unruly not to be taught magic further. You are a danger – a liability."

I tried to keep myself from glaring.

"Therefore your lessons will initiate today, and you will be under the teaching of Cara."

I listlessly looked up at the imposing woman. Her pale blonde hair was pulled tightly back and she eyed me with emotionless grey eyes. The lesson began as soon as Anenias and Elias left, and her demeanour didn't change in the slightest. She talked swiftly and sharply, demonstrating with a twitch of her head and a flick of her hand. It was concealment that she tried to teach me, and remembering so many spells had me completely drained by lunch. Bread, grapes, and this strange purple vegetable that was only just in season. No meat, the druids barely ever ate meat. I had come to love the taste of meat, especially chicken, but kept my head down and ate my bread.

After lunch I was left to my own devices and, not really wanting to put up with a very emotional Fallon, sought the company of my peers. I hadn't really talked to children my age much before. There were about twelve of us all under the age of fourteen, the daughter of Chief Elder Anenias being the eldest. She automatically earned a great deal of respect from the younger children, and seemed a bit put out when I suddenly became the centre of attention. I wasn't used to it, but as I told a little of my adventures, discovered that I was greatly pleased when they laughed in all the right places. They particularly liked the tale of 'The Babbling Man', a farmer brought to Gaius by his desperate wife. They gasped when I described the bravery and strength of King Arthur and his knights, and looked wistful as I told them about the castle. It vividly reminded me of another story teller, who, like me, embellished and elaborated. Mordred had taught me the art of words and how to manipulate them, and he had taught me well.

"But magic is outlawed there, you know," I informed them solemnly.

"You must be very brave!" A little boy cried out in awe. I found myself blushing, and decided then that I didn't much like attention after all, so I initiated a massive game of Hide and Seek. If I cheated a little by making the most of my newly acquired skills, nobody guessed. The game lasted for several hours until the sun dropped in the sky and we all gathered around the fire for the evening meal. This time was very different compared to the energetic greeting that took place the night before. It was more tranquil, relaxing, and I was snugly sat between Fallon and Cillian, mulling over the happenings of the day. I was older now, and could look at the druid camp through fresh eyes. It was open, friendly, and above all, happy. These people burned with a genuine desire to help others, and after my stay in Camelot, that was something that I could appreciate now.

Yet somehow, that night sleep was lost to me. I squirmed under my blankets, trying not to wake anybody up. In the end I decided to give up, and somewhat angrily pushed through the tent flap. The cool autumn night wrapped around me, and my thick nightdress provided little protection. Winter was coming all right. The leaves that littered the floor were beautiful; coppers, reds, oranges, browns and golds. I noticed that the fire was still burning, albeit much smaller than earlier, and I picked my way over the cool earth towards it.

SNAP

I gasped and froze, looking around me, scanning the black depths of the forest. I waited. Was something there? Someone perhaps? What should I do? After what seemed like an age, I whispered, "Hello?"

A figure stumbled out of the forest depths and I nearly screamed before recognising him. He looked both shocked and appalled to see me there. I had, I supposed, left with no warning. I should have known that he would come and look for me. A small part of my felt grateful towards that kindly action.

"Anya!" He cried, and I ran over to him, grabbed his hand and led him into the forest. He seemed to understand that we needed to get out of ear shot. I avoided his gaze as we walked through the trees. Finally, after I had gathered up my courage, I stopped, and let go of his hand. I felt guilty, and saw that he looked at me with concern in his blue eyes. He needn't, I was fine. He seemed to be waiting for my penitent explanation.

"I went back home with the druids," I offered. "Cillian found me, and he..." I stopped at the look on his face.

"You seemed happy in Camelot," He said quietly.

"I am- I was!"

"You should have said something!" Now, he sounded slightly exasperated. "Anya, I'm your brother, you can trust me. If you wanted to come back here, all you had to do was ask. I don't want you to go, but if you were unhappy there..."

I was stunned, and urgently gripped his hand again. "But Merlin, Fallon and Cillian need me here." It was imperative that he understood, and I searched his downcast face for a flicker of relief.

"Are you certain of your decision?" Merlin asked. I opened my mouth but I found that I had no answer. He looked at me and knew my indecisiveness.

"You know," He began, "Gwen is distraught. Arthur has his knights out searching for you. He's in the forest, right now, and I can't hold him back forever. He will find you with the druids. They think that you were stolen – they don't even know that you're alive."

I was silent. I had sort of known that, but not wanted to admit it. "And they WILL find me?"

"I can't hold him back forever," Merlin repeated.

"Do you want me to return to Camelot?"

"It's your choice." He was being all irritating and not telling me what he really thought. "You don't have to decide now. I'll return in one week. Then I'll be able to hold him off no longer. And, if Arthur thinks that the druids captured you..."

Carnage. He didn't have to say it. I nodded faintly. Merlin knew that I would return with him, he had a small smile flitting around his mouth as he left me. I had tears in my eyes. I no longer had any choice; I would leave the druids behind. I was ready to completely forget about my life in Camelot, but seeing Merlin had brought it all flooding back. I could never forget him, and I was stupid to assume that my mind was that fickle. I dully walked back to the tent. Now I would have to put up with seven days of guilt. Looking Fallon and Cillian in the eyes, knowing that I would be leaving them soon. A small part of me thought that as they had coped for so long, they could surely manage without me.

I returned, tried to sleep, and acted as I did before, as if Merlin was just a dream. I managed well. If anything, I was a little quiet. Nothing too noticeable. And then came Wednesday. Cillian and Fallon took me aside, into the tent and sat me down. I tried to smile, but it only increased my guilt. Fallon was with child, she had been for about five months. She pulled her long dress tight and I saw a slight bump that wasn't there before. They were both beaming as they told me, how Anenias had told them that the child would grow up healthy and happy. I played my part well. I was abandoning my unborn sibling. Would it even grow up to recognise me?

The time came. I left a small note – Don't come looking for me – and slipped outside. My clothes were tied up in a bundle. We left in the night, and I didn't look back.

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**This is only the beginning! Hope you enjoyed.**  
**Feel free to review, and thankyou for reading - It means a lot :)**


	15. What may come to pass

**I'M SORRY X**  
**I know it's been ages since I last uploaded, but... busy times**

**And I have been watching the new series (3) but this fic will now on be strictly AU. And sorry for any OOC-ness, too late to change that now :3**

**Enjoy!**

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As abruptly as I had left it, I was thrown back into my life in Camelot. Looking rather dishevelled and tired, Merlin and I walked into the Great Hall. He had fabricated a story during the journey, blaming my departure on Morgana, of all people, and concluded that her whereabouts was unknown, as she had fled into the unknown. If our story were true, then Mordred would surely have made himself known by now. "But," I thought bitterly, "They have probably killed each other by now."

We told our tale smoothly and tiredly. I could spot no fault or unplaced crease in Merlin's features and wondered how often he had lied to his king. He couldn't have enjoyed any of it, I had seen the way that they looked at each other and protected each other. They were more than a king and his manservant, and yet more than friends. King Arthur addressed his knights as his brothers, but Merlin had a higher place still. They didn't need to tell each other how they thought, they instinctively knew. Perhaps that was why their fates were so entwined. Perhaps that's why King Arthur accepted our tale and asked no more questions. He trusted him, simple as that. And yet knew nothing of his magic.

"He will find out about you soon," I thought to Merlin, and he tried not to falter in his explanation to Gwen. I showed Merlin a brief image of himself with golden eyes looking at Arthur.

"What was that?" He thought, startled.

"I don't know, but it will happen. I've seen it." When he asked me to explain, I found that I could not.

"Merlin, are you all right?" Gwen asked. She had cried at my return, and now her eyes were rimmed with red.

"He's probably tired, isn't that right Merlin?" Arthurs tone was patronising, and his mouth pulled into a smirk.

"Yes, I'll be requiring the day off tomorrow."  
Arthur rose from his throne and stalked away after Merlin, who had fled, laughing. Gwen rolled her eyes.  
"Don't mid them," She said. "They do that. Come now, you're looking dead on your feet."

I gladly followed her to my room in the castle, stopping via the kitchens to organise some food to be sent up. It was heavy and warm, but for some reason, I wasn't all that hungry. Gwen pressed me to eat, and I tried, but it was like my stomach had remained at the druid camp, with Cillian and Fallon and my unborn sibling. I thought about the baby inside her. It would stay with the druids from the beginning, and be loved by its parents. Its REAL parents. Then, when I'm starting to sit on my bed, pictures flashed in my mind. The picture of Merlin from earlier, then others. Merlin smiling gently as Gaius scolded, something had happened, but I didn't know what. I saw a group of children dressed in red and gold, dancing in a circle in the courtyard as I looked on. It smelled like winter, and my face was cold. And I saw Gwen standing in the river, facing me, only this time it was night, and she was completely attentive. I tried to speak out, to tell her something, but my throat was harsh and my eyes burned, and tears dripped from my cheeks onto my neck.

I awoke with a start, and sighed deeply, leaning back against the pillows. The room was still lit by candlelight, and beyond the window it was dark. I hadn't noticed falling asleep, but I knew that I needn't bother trying now. After that vivid dream, I was alert. I didn't often dream, and wanted to remember what I saw, though it was quickly fading from my memory. I could only recall images, flashes, so I hastily walked to the large writing desk in the corner of the room, and fumbled in the drawers for some parchment, a quill, and ink. Then, feverishly, I drew.

I had never before set the images in my mind down in anything other than mindless traces on the floor of my first home, but now, my magic guided my hand. A great deal had changed since then. Kensa, my mother; I couldn't remember her. Time had erased all but her name. And she probably wouldn't recognise me if she saw me now. Sitting in a palace, wearing an embroidered nightdress. I had met Mordred. I had met Cillian, and Fallon. Then my actual, real brother, Merlin. He was the important one. When I went away, he came looking for me. I knew that meant that he cared.

I set the quill down and examined my work. I could remember it now, I looked at the drawings and it all came flooding back. But what did it mean? I took them with me and set off for someone who would know the answer. I was certain that I knew the way, so certain that as I walked down the corridors, my feet slapping on the floor and the sheaves of paper rustling in my hand, I paid little heed to what was approaching around the corner.

"Halt! Who goes there?"

I froze on the spot as several knights hurried around from behind me, swords out and pointing at me. "State your name and intent," The leader ordered. He had light brown curly hair and spoke gruffly.

"I... I ..."

"Leon," another knight hissed. He was tall, very tall, and I could have sworn that I had seen him somewhere. "This is Anya. The queen..."

Leon's face coloured. "I beg your pardon." He seemed at a loss for words. "Do you... are you in need of assistance?"

I tilted my head up a notch. "No thank you!" I said brightly, and continued down the corridor, leaving the knights slightly startled behind me.

I let myself in to Gaius's rooms, and crept to Merlin's. He was awake, but still not dressed, lying in his bed and staring vacantly up at the ceiling.

I creaked open the door and perched at the end of his bed. He sat upright immediately. "Anya, what is it? Are you okay?"

"I saw something," I admitted.

"What?"

I handed him the papers and he flicked through. "You drew these?!"

"My magic did." I knew he would understand, and I was right.

"When did you see this?"

"In my sleep." I studied his face expectantly. He was serious as stone.

"Anya, promise me something." I nodded. "Don't go looking for the things you have seen. If they are meant to be they will come to pass, and nothing that you do will stop that. And it may not be what it seems at first."

"But what does it mean?" I pressed. The dawn light slipped up over the window, and lit the small room.

" I don't know. But if you start seeing it, if it starts coming true, don't tell me. Please don't tell me."

"Why?" I timidly asked.

"Because I'm afraid that I won't be able to stop myself from doing something stupid."

His words washed sincerity over me. Something important was about to happen. And I couldn't tell him when it did. Then again, if it was important, he'd probably end up finding out, sooner or later. He solemnly nodded after seeing my understanding, and pushed back the covers. "Be off with you," He said gently, nudging me off the bed towards the door. "I have work," He shrugged, and I nodded, leaving the way I had come, my steps haunted by the images on the parchment in my hand. Merlin had made it worse. I had nobody to tell when it started to happen And I was equally as capable as Merlin at doing something stupid. But, for now, I just had to wait. And patience doesn't exactly come to me naturally.

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**There. Not as long as it should be, considering the wait, but a chapter all the same.**  
**Please tell me what you think?**


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